


New Jazz Age

by RenaRoo



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-War, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-26 09:06:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6232687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenaRoo/pseuds/RenaRoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Modern Postwar AU] The war is over, and no one has a harder time remembering it than the soldiers who fought it. In the aftermath, three soldiers have no idea how to be normal and seek a sort of sanctuary in a complicated living arrangement with each other. Unfortunately, along with the growing pains of figuring each other out, they learn that the home they left behind is still full of its own personal battles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. War's Over, Kid

**Author's Note:**

> Funny story, so I hardcore OT3 NorthxYorkxCarolina for the simple reason that it started out as a joke I told some friends because GET IT their initials make NYC. And it devolved. Hardcore devolved from there. To the point that I made myself a modern-esque domestic-ish AU for it. Like, what has happened to me, I blame the entirety of the RvB fandom for being just too much fun.

Carolina doesn’t write down her thoughts, but she still thinks on them like she did when she thought they were an artifact worth recording.

When she boards the monorail and first hears the soft tunes of jazz in the background of every room, she has an instinct to put down her every thought on the discovery.

She likes jazz, but she finds the circumstances surrounding herself and the long bored background music more interesting than her preferences. 

Jazz was born from an age of ended war and the existential crisis that broke down every rule people thought they knew before it. And those who found revitalization in the way jazz tore to pieces the established music scene often felt like the rules of what was _before_ war should not bind those who survived after it.

Which is why, over a century past that revolutionary history, Carolina clutches to her OD green backpack’s traps and finds herself whole heartedly endorsing the sentiment.

The rules she once thought she knew are no longer rules she can adhere to nor enjoy. And the jazz on the train is perhaps the first music she’s heard since she got back to the country that’s made her feel anything at all.

Other than appreciate the background noise, she looks out through the window of her cart.

She doesn’t mingle with her fellow passengers, does not remove her fifty pound backpack, does _not_ touch the phone still burning a hole into the pocket of her cargo jeans.

She doesn’t wonder if she’s doing the right thing. 

Carolina just thinks about what tortures she’ll inflict upon the two knuckleheads who invited her out to the middle of nowhere if this happens to be an elaborate hoax. 

The anxiety she still feels at that real possibility -- that they’re just fucking with her and there isn’t anyone waiting on the other end of her ride -- is enough to make her tighten her fist until her nails are scratching through the thick callouses of her palms.

She doesn’t think about what it will mean when she walks off the train and finds them there, waiting, as promised. She doesn’t think about how it will mean breaking more rules, about how there will be territory untraveled before her then.

Carolina can process the anger and disappointment and _humiliation_ if she’s wrong about them. But she can’t begin to fathom the next step if she’s _right._

So when the train pulls into the station and unloading begins, Carolina prepares herself for very many things. But none of them are the two men immediately outside looking eagerly at the exiting passengers, with a hand crafted sign in crayon on cardboard with _BOSS_ written on it.

Her fingers curl around her backpack straps as she stares through the window. She hardly knows what to make of either of them.

York’s tan has slightly diminished and his face made sharper by the hollowed out way his cheeks look. He’s completely ditched the eye patch but the skin around it is puckered, still a little red and angry. His clothes are faded and worn. The leather of his jacket cracked and fraying. 

But he’s wearing a brilliant smile, and the moment his good eye sets on her he begins waving enthusiastically at the sign as if to show it off.

North is tall, stiff, and bundled up in more presentable wardrobe, but it’s offset by the fact the black messenger bag at his side is covered in tacky rainbow and pink stickers from some cartoon Carolina is sure she missed while she was gone.  North’s appearance has not changed so much as York’s, however, there’s a tiredness to his eyes that keeps what small smile he is wearing from quite meeting them.

Rather than draw further attention to the sign once they have Carolina’s attention, North has the good sense to simply wave back at her. 

Carolina breathes steadily and forces herself to move forward despite the fact that she still can’t believe all of this -- or rather that _any_ of this -- is remotely real.

As she approached them, York dropped the sign enough to animatedly elbow North’s rib cage. All it gets him is a casual glance from the taller man.

“See, now don’t you feel dumb? I _told_ you she was going to get off that train,” York says with a sharp toothed grin. “Now you’re going to owe me money.”

Carolina stops a few feet short of them, an all new anxiety for the scenario stirring up in her head.

North meets her gaze evenly and almost seems to nod to something they have not agreed upon yet before he turns and ribs York right back. “Priorities,” he reminds the one eyed soldier.

“Of course!” York says back cheerfully before breaking away from North’s side and pulling Carolina into a tight hug.

She stiffens, every muscle prepared for _something_ she can’t quite decide on. Carolina feels her mouth grow dry and her knees lock awkwardly. But even so, she can’t stop a smile from cracking as she realizes the cardboard sign is beating agains her back.

Smoothly, she manages to slide the sign from York’s hand to hers as she breaks the embrace. She inspects it with a scrutinizing gaze.

“If you’re going through the trouble of this gag, couldn’t you have spent _some_ more time on the sign?” she asks before letting York take the sign back. 

When York looks back at her it’s almost like he’s offended. “Gag? What gag?”

North is more receptive to her brand of humor and offers a lazy smile and shrug. “York lacks commitment to such things,” he jokes back.

Which _really_ sets York off as he shoves his hands harshly into his jacket pockets and lets the cardboard drop to the ground. “ _Pfft!_ I don’t even know what _planet_ you guys are living on. I’m like the _proprietor_ of commitment!”

Smirking, North drops to one knee and picks up the cardboard. He starts folding it as he stands back up. “Proprietor,” he repeats. “ _That’s_ a big word. I should suggest it for a bonus on the next spelling test.”

"Just make sure _they_ actually know what it means,” Carolina joked. 

Ignoring their joint musings, York waggles a finger at them both. “Not to mention, assholes, just _who_ suggested this plan to begin with?”

Humming, North tucks the cardboard into his messenger bag and looks curiously toward Carolina. 

She takes a calculated breath as both men’s eyes fall directly on her.

“So,” she begins, swinging her hands together. “This is actually happening. We’re doing this?” 

York doesn’t have a hesitant bone in his body as he looks back at her and beams. “Yeah, of course we are.”

North remains far more pragmatic as he looks back at Carolina. “If this is still something you want,” he replies gently.

Carolina stays quiet for a moment, truly contemplates it all, before drawing a breath and nodding.

She does not miss the way both of the men relax in relief.

“Where’s the car?” she asks. 

* * *

North’s car leaves something to be desired and he seems to be at least partially aware of the fact as he mentions without prompting that York has a newer car that Carolina can use as she likes parked at the house they’re renting.

“Doesn’t _York_ need it?” she asks curiously.

There’s an uncomfortable shift between the two and North gives York a somewhat annoyed look before answering for him. “He let his license expire on tour and would have to take his driver’s test again to get a new one in a different state.” 

Carolina blinks. “You’re _kidding.”_ She waits a beat then glances more directly to York. “ _York.”_

 _“_ Oh, you two need to stop,” York retorts, waving his hand. “I barely drove anywhere before I enlisted anyway. I love walking!”

“You also could take a bus in the rain back then because you lived in _New York City,”_ North points out accurately. 

York’s face scrunches together as he looks back at them both. “So?”

Still amused with York’s stubbornness months out, Carolina nods toward the window. “York, we’ve been in the car for five minutes and I haven’t seen a sidewalk.”

“I like nature,” he argues.

“ _Again:_ New York City,” North replies curtly.

“What is this? Dump on York day? Unbelievable.”

There’s a good air in the car as they pull into a small neighborhood and navigate a series of streets which require a lot of concentration to memorize on their way through. Carolina wishes she were more surprised as they turn onto Foxtrot Drive.

“You chose a house because it was on a street with your old codename? _Really?”_

“I did not,” he defends with a sniff.

“Is it house number twelve?” she teases more.

York deflates some and sighs. “No, it was already rented out.”

North looks to the rearview mirror to catch Carolina’s eyes. “Remember what I sat at the station about lacking commitment to jokes?”

Whatever protests York carries to the sentiment dies in a single frustrated grunt as North pulls them into the driveway of a two floor house, parking alongside the very car Carolina has been promised.

Again, the minimalist approach Carolina has been taking with her expectations proves to be woefully inaccurate.

It’s not the largest or grandest home she’s seen, yet somewhere in the expectations she had for a house she forgot to dream of a yard or a porch, a smattering of shrubberies or windows with shutters. The sort of details that took such an abstract idea, some unaccomplished dream, and makes it more real than weeks of preparation and anxiety could have prepared Carolina for.

And if all of North and York’s messages to her continue to hold true, then there is a line on the lease ready to make at least part of it her own.

Her reaction times are still slow, ridiculously so, and she watches North and York step out of the car before it registers that she should do the same. She moves twice as as fast to get to the trunk at the same time as York.

It pops open and they have a silent stare off before Carolina sees North snickering and heading to the door with his bag and hers. 

“You weasels,” she says before York loops his arms in hers and begins marching them toward the door.

“We’re just making your grand tour the full experience,” York replies, commentary well prepared as always.

The house continues to surprise in the most inane of ways. It has a short foyer with empty picture frames -- _FILL SOON_ written in sharpie on sticky notes hanging from them. There are stairs to the right, a skinny door behind them, and a wrap around series of rooms starting on the left leading into a living room, then a small dining room, and a kitchen in the back.

Boxes far out numbered furniture and appliances at this point. 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure we can fill this place with junk soon enough,” York promises sincerely as he leads Carolina toward the stairs with the enthusiasm of a boy on christmas morning.

“Is that really something we _want?”_ she asks as she follows. 

Slower behind them, North climbs the stairs and gives a, “That’s what _I_ asked.”

“Well aren’t you two just a match made in heaven,” York grumbles in response. His tune reverts, however, the moment they’re setting foot on the second floor landing. He waves his free arm across the hall like a good showman. “And the living quarters. North figured no matter what silliness we decide to tangle up as--”

“Phrasing, York,” North warns as he passes them with Carolina’s bag and heads to the last door.

“--we could still use our own spaces,” York continues without missing a beat. “That one’s North’s. That one’s mine. That’s a full bath. And then this is yours.”

They enter the bedroom as North gently lays Carolina’s bag on the bed.

Carolina blinks and lets go of York’s arm, walking further into the room that’s supposedly hers. She scans the room -- the closet, the full length mirror, the crown molding. And then she turns back to the two of them.

North and York are still waiting on baited breath for a full reaction. Carolina’s been told before she’s bad for reading such responses from. 

“You gave me the master?” she asks.

“You’re still the Boss,” York jokes. “Troop assignment or no troop assignment.”

She waves to her bag. “That is literally everything I own and you gave _me_ the most space.”

North shrugs. “So you’re a little light on the baggage. Considering how much York and I are carrying, that’s a bit of a plus.”

Carolina honest to god laughs. “I never claimed to not have _baggage._ I’m sure we’ll unpack _that_ when we least expect it.” She looks at them a little more seriously. “This is all... you two are so...” She collects herself. “I am ready to make this a home already. _Thank_ you.”

North returns a rather sad smile. “Soldiers coming home... Might require a little more relearning in the department of trying to be _human_ first,” he replies.

Taking a breath, Carolina steps over to them and gently locks her fingers into each of their hands. “Yes, well, I think we have the perfect company for doing that step with.” She pulls them both to her, yanking North an extra tug to bring him down to where she can reach. “Thank you,” she says sincerely before pressing kisses to the corners of their mouths as she wrapped her arms around their necks.

Still held by the hug, York chips in, “I think putting a dog in that already fenced backyard would do _wonders_ for the whole homeliness and humanness factors, personally.” 

“No,” Carolina and North echo together without breaking the embrace.

* * *

The room gets larger at night, when York and North are gone and there’s the bare walls and the white sheets alone to keep her company. She still hasn’t taken the essentials out of her backpack, York and North apparently determined to take her to the mall tomorrow to fix the pitiful state that is her wardrobe.

The conversation from dinner hours ago still rings clearly _I can’t believe you have no clothes._

And Carolina stands by the statement. She doesn’t have clothes, not since the moment she was discharged and she took her military issueds and bought an extra shirt with that month’s allowance at the first touristy venue she saw.

Breathing in the solitude, sitting atop her bed in her room in her new house, she feels a strange sensation. 

Like things are _actually_ new.

Which is probably why pulling out her laptop and giving herself a reality check was not the best idea for her. 

There’s an ache in her knees still as she reads about the end of the war, about the treaties and the end of an era and peace but not the kind of peace that soldiers give their lives for. There’s still ringing in her ears from gunfire now that there’s no other bodies around to fill her space, and the headline of _PEACE_ does not diminish that. 

Nothing really diminishes that. That loss of a human being -- that loss of who she once was and who she once dreamed to be. 

So she moves on from the news, feeling like the freshness and newness of living a new life with old friends peeled off with the tact of an old bandaid. 

She looks at the interviews and appointments lined up for her in the town, compares her prospects, checks the email she had been avoiding with all her might for the last several weeks, tries to fill her phone with the contacts listed for job interviews. 

Carolina tries to remember basic human things for a moment when thumbing through her phone -- very structured LAST NAME, FIRST NAME -- and comes across a short area that is exactly the opposite of that.

Three names are listed on her name in A, E, and T of her contacts, very inappropriately with FIRST NAME the only slot filled in. The names she hasn’t breathed a word of in so many years it’s nearly criminal.

She stares at them for a moment too long, then remembers herself, remembers why she can never say those names out loud again. That they don’t belong to her after she has long since forfeited that right. 

And after that reminder, she simply deletes them. 

The war took many things from her, but she thinks it especially took the right to call herself a sister.


	2. The Guy Who Walks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took a bit longer to write because I started basing a lot of things off my hometown which made me stop and revise a few things. Also because getting into Sad!York’s head is a bit more taxing on me than I first realized! But never fear for those concerned about York, we’ve got a long way to go and what I believe to be a good journey ahead : ) 
> 
> Special thanks to the support of @freshzombiewriter, @fasterthxnyou, @the-unintelligent-hologram, @analiarvb, @secretlystephaniebrown, @sroloc–elbisivni, @nogoawayok, @ephemeralelysium, staininspace, and Yin from AO3 and tumblr!

The best part of his morning is the few minutes it takes for him to remember where he is. 

He likes the early morning puzzle of untangling from sheets or limbs, groping around for some surprise next to him in bed. 

Some mornings it’s a scratchy “York” that gets him back with a light elbow or foot aimed his way. Some mornings it’s a heavy sigh and a shove back to his side. 

The best mornings he manages both.

This morning he’s grabbing at wrinkled sheets and a still warm pillow. And that’s the biggest wakeup call of all. 

He sits up straight and peers around the room and – 

Definitely Carolina’s. Which is twice as odd since she sleeps like a log and has no problem with stomping around in her morning routine even if there’s anyone else around.

He makes a fast grab for the worn jeans he left on the floor and is already halfway down the stairs before he hears his partners’ voices from the kitchen.

“Has he talked to you about it yet?” Carolina’s curt tone cuts through the air like a knife.

“You know he can’t make it that easy. It’s against his genetic makeup,” North replies. York isn’t surprised in the least to see a coffee mug at North’s lips as he rounds the corner. “He’s cagey about personal issues. Let him bring it up.”

York curls his nose at the topic being beaten around the bush and decides to interrupt with a casual, “Hey. I gotta work in, like, forty minutes. I can’t get a wakeup call?” When that gets the other two veterans’ attention, York gestures toward the door. “It’s like a thirty-five minute walk, so… now I gotta get booking.”

There’s a look shared between North and Carolina that York doesn’t like at all. It only ends when North raises his cup and begins sipping, leaving Carolina to take the charge.

Carolina’s face reads of pure frustration before she shakes her head and looks at York. 

“Actually, you didn’t sleep so well last night so I thought you could get some extra rest and then I’d drop you off at work,” Carolina explains as if there isn’t a twitch in her cheek from how much she’s forcing her smile.

Frowning, York puts his hands on his hips. “I sleep just fine.”

“Do you?” North asks, pulling up a pad of paper from the stuff he has sprawled out over the counter. 

“I’m adjusting,” York replies. He glances to the clock and grunts before moving back to the stairs. “Oh, forget it. I’m going to be late. Where’d I leave my shirt?”

“My room,” North answers while Carolina lets out a choked off growl, as if she’s _so_ put off by York. 

He pauses halfway on the stairs, thinks intently on just what the night before was like, before deciding he doesn’t _really_ care and continuing on his way. 

The fact that North is accurate and his shirt _is_ somehow in North’s bedroom isn’t even a blip on York’s radar. After all, it’s not like his things are ever in his own room. 

He skips some of the otherwise essentials of getting ready, grabs a jacket, and is on his way out with an affirmative slam of the door on his way out just for emphasis. Which he’s sure Carolina loves. 

But, honestly, it’s just rude that they didn’t get him up at all. 

* * *

The walk is wet, and it takes a good minute or two of scratching the soles of his shoes against the rug at the furniture store’s entrance before there’s nothing for York to track in. And even then he can tell by the manager’s face that dingy blue jeans and the collared shirt from yesterday aren’t the most impressive things an employee has worn. 

Still, it doesn’t stop York from doing his best to shine that kilowatt smile at the guy who keeps an eye on his clock and carry on toward the back office. “Morning, Bob.”

“Robert,” the manager corrects without hesitation. “You’re–”

“Two minutes late, sorry, my alarm’s screwy,” York answers and moves on toward the back. 

“And you don’t have your name tag–”

“It’s in my locker!” York assures him as he continues on. 

The store isn’t much. It’s a dying company, really, one of the few independents left that can only really exist in small towns like theirs, and yet can’t survive without servicing a larger area. Which makes convincing people to buy furniture and appliances that they don’t _really_ need all that much an art form they’re very interested in.

And York has been told several times that despite himself he’s really rather charming. 

Which makes him a perfect fit for a miserable job. 

That kilowatt smile is already down to barely a gleam by the time he reaches the employee lounge and has come across the lockers. He stares at them. Neatly padlocked down the whole line. Save one, of course. His. 

There’s a fond memory of Basic – if really _any_ memory of Basic can be considered _fond_ – where he and Delta pranked their entire squad by picking the padlocks. 

Or. Rather, _York_ picked the locks while his reluctant partner in crime was forced to stand lookout. 

It was harmless. Switching out the contents of every locker with the others and watching the confusion grow among their brothers in arms until it all came to light. 

Delta even cracked a smile at that. 

York grabs his name tag and considers hard just what he planned to do next. There was all of _no_ customers when he came in. And, really, they rarely expected people before ten anyway. 

He stares, goes back out. Stares again. 

The manager isn’t even looking his way, playing _something_ on the front desk’s computer that’s probably not work appropriate. Which is fine by York.

There’s only so many times that he can test out the display drawers and see where all the weak screws are that customers will complain about later before he’s back in the lounge, scuffing his shoes on the tile and feeling like he’s about to explode. 

He never _did_ get any relief for the whole bullshit of the morning. 

Which makes him reach to pull his phone out a few dozen times to see if either North or Carolina have tried to get a hold of him since he left. 

That, of course, makes him realize he left his phone.

When North first started taking night classes in the area and York half-heartedly began his job search, the two of them had thought it was just _breezy_ that York could get a job based off talking people into things. A sales associate was a near perfect fit for all the attributes York was best known for in their little group. 

But the aggravation of _waiting._ It’s a daily suffering York goes through. 

His fingers itch for something to do as he waits around stewing about the rest of his morning. Which somehow lands him back in the employee lounge.

Really, York feels like he’s not even _really_ doing it himself. It’s all muscle memory after he grabs a paperclip from the desk. 

Lockpicking is one of those things he just always has had a knack for, and in the army it was something of a novelty and parlor trick that his CO helped turn into something of a specialty. And like any task one does with their hands, a certain euphoria sets in after success is reached. 

One that, unfortunately, carries some aspect of diminishing return. 

It is just one padlock. Bob’s. Just to mess with him a bit, make the manager think either he forgot to lock up his lunch or that someone _is_ messing with him. He’s done it a few times before, just to see the manager’s reaction come noon.

But as it swings on the locker door, hanging free and open, York exhales hotly from his nose and waits for some sense of accomplishment. 

Nothing.

He has nothing against Pam, but her lock gets popped next. And while the act makes him something of an asshole, it carries a bit more satisfaction than Bob’s lock did. 

It feels like he’s only blinked when it’s the whole line. 

It’s nearly eleven thirty and the bell hasn’t rang for a customer even once. 

York puts his forehead to rest against one of the columns near the center of the store and wonders how the hell he got to this point. He thinks maybe he should jump on some of the beds in the kid’s section – just to make sure they’re ready for actual children, of course – when he hears the jingle of keys that is a signature of Bob’s hurried waddle. 

“What the hell happened in the lounge?” the manager demands. “Did you do that?”

Blinking, York thinks a few times about what he did beside pop the locks off the lockers. As far as he remembers nothing. “The locks?” he asks, forehead still on the column.

“Yes, Sean, the locks on the employee lockers!” Bob snaps back.

“Ugh, I hate when people call me Sean,” York sighs, finally straightening up. “Yes, I did the locks. I use to be a locksmith,” he replies. “It’s something to do when I’m bored–”

“Mess with employee property? That’s just _something to do when you’re bored?”_ Bob demands, his face is growing red and blotchy. 

York blinks before crossing his arms. “Look, not _everyone_ plays _Starcraft_ expansions at work, Bob.”

“That is _not_ an invasion of your fellow employees’ personal property!” the man explodes, and York thinks there’s going to be calamity on this road if he keeps going but…

Well, it’s the most interesting thing that’s happened at work in four weeks.

“Do you even want to work here?” Bob growls like it’s a threat.

“Not really, no,” York replies without a second thought. 

He clears out his own locker before noon.

* * *

For some reason, the walk back home isn’t nearly as terrible as the half-jog it took for him to get to the furniture store to begin with.

It’s still dreary and wet from the past night’s rain, sure, but York isn’t bursting through the doors of employment this time around. Just the numb, listless insecurity of joblessness.

In some ways it’s as terrible as the day he was released from the veteran’s hospital with a firm salute and a kick to the ass. 

Where to go from here?

He pauses at a few street corners and thinks how he hasn’t walked down them before, really explored the ins and outs of the sparse town. 

If there’s one truth to the continuous joking from Carolina and North it’s that the little town from the middle of nowhere is nothing like New York. At least not in scope. There’s not a single towering skyscraper, no alleys littered with the smell of desperation and claustrophobia. 

For a town so small, every space is _so_ big. And York thinks that it’s just about a crime that the tallest building is a bank with the audacity to have a fourth floor. 

There’s no time like the present so he turns and investigates for himself. 

For a town with absolutely nothing, York finds that it has a genuine interest in filling itself with useless novelties as far as shopping is concerned. There’s at least two antique store, a pharmacy with a 50s diner malt counter that hasn’t changed the stool seats since said decade, an arcade that is shamefully closed, and no less than twelve churches between First Street and Sixth. 

He sits by the fountain in the city square for half an hour before it begins to rain again. which just about sums his luck up lately. 

The walk home is a little fresher from a different angle. And though it’s no surprise that he’s the only one strolling in at two in the afternoon, he allows himself a _little_ disappointment at the discovery all the same. 

His pockets are a little fuller than when he left, now filled with the few bearing his locker at work contained. So he spills them out haphazardly on the counter tops in the kitchen. 

Scratching his head, York looks toward the barren planned-dining room. 

“Maybe I should have used the discount on a table before quitting,” he muses out loud. 

And that spoken out loud, for the first time, _really_ lets it sink in what’s bound to happen. 

Not so much that he’s bound to be jobless for an unknown period of time. Not that he’s uncertain of what this means for himself and his viability to be a good fit for future employment. 

But he’s going to have to tell Carolina and North tonight and _that_ is going to be rather sucky. 

He groans and rubs his face a few times before remembering to get his phone.

York sends out a simple enough group message to his partners:

> YRK: Ill grab dinner k?

The good thing about both of them working today is that he doesn’t need to wait on a reply to know neither of them wants to deal with making dinner themselves. 

Which gives him the proper excuse to run out to the store and not stay in the smothering house by himself any longer than he has to. Else he might just crawl onto the couch and not wake up until Carolina or North try to get him up for a job he doesn’t have anymore tomorrow. 

* * *

The grocery store is part of a chain that York never heard of before the move. 

North knew about it, but from what York can tell both North and Carolina are familiar with living disconnected from the present and the rest of the world in general. 

York, meanwhile, is still just marveling there’s a single aisle labeled _International Foods_ and it basically lacks anything of true substance.

He stands looking at the crowded shelf shared by ‘Asian’ and ‘Mexican” and almost wonders out loud about whether anyone on the staff realizes how hilariously wrong it all is. But York’s attention still gravitates to the brand name bags of brown rice on the bottom shelf.

Squatting down, York grabs a bag and inspects it

There’s a recipe he’s aiming to try for dinner. A good one that’ll hopefully make his partners a bit more receptive to bad news. And if he believes what he’s heard about said recipe then at the very least it’s going to be delicious.

Which makes York take pause and breathe.

There had been a shine to Delta’s eyes as he explained how excited he was for the dish. He detailed the recipe to York several times, whether York had wanted to hear it again or not. 

Then he explained how much he looked forward to his mother – they were close, she took up raising Delta by herself, even if York highly doubted Delta was ever a _hard_ kid to deal with – making it for him. 

He was excited enough to invite York to come home with him and try it.

Delta _never_ got excited about things, so it wasn’t like York could even dream of saying no.

When his phone vibrates in his pocket, York sucks in a thick gulp of air, only hazily realizing he had forgotten to breathe at all.

He blinks a few times, trying to reorient himself, when the hairs stand on the back of his neck. _Someone_ is looking at him. 

On instinct, York viciously turns toward the person behind him only to realize it’s a girl no older than seven. She’s staring at him with wide eyes. It’s enough to make his stomach turn uneasily.

As her eyes drift down to York’s hands, York looks too, realizing that he’s been shaking the bag of rice so much that it is beginning to come apart. 

Without another word, York sets the bag back and rises up to stand. 

For some reason he’s completely winded, so he rubs at his face. It’s colder and clammier than he predicts it will be and his cheeks are damp. He easily rectifies the situation with the cracking sleeve of his jacket. Then, with another breath, he shakes his arms and legs loose, having began to feel them cramping up. 

As he walks to the end of the aisle, he finally checks his phone and sees it’s a belated reply to the group chat. 

> LNA: ok  
> NRH: What’s for dinner?

York heads toward the freezer section as he hastily types back.

> YRK: Pizza.

* * *

North and Carolina are back within ten minutes of each other and York’s had the pizza in the oven for about twenty minutes already which makes his timing just about as perfect as it gets.

They both seem exhausted and worn around the edges, like their workday is an unexpected amount of work they barely overcome by the end of their shifts. 

Carolina is pouring herself some wine because pizza be damned she thinks she deserves it and neither North nor York are nuts enough to contradict her on it. 

More observant to _something_ he can’t quite form into words yet, North is looking at the size of the formerly-frozen pizza as York pulls it out. “Did you carry that all the way from the store?”

“Yup,” York replies, making sure his lips pop with it. He reaches for the pizza cutter and North hand it to him. “Doesn’t it look amazing?”

“It’s amazing how much I crave pizza at the end of a long day if _that’s_ what you mean,” Carolina laughs airily. “God. Have I mentioned to you guys how annoying techs are? I know one of them’s just mad because the hospital hired outside for my position, but the rest ganging up with her? What’s with that?”

York slops a too-big slice of pizza onto a paper plate and offers it up to Carolina first which she accepts readily. By the time he’s turned back around, North is helping himself and just eating over the kitchen island. 

“Animal,” York jokes before grabbing a slice and beginning to fold it over. 

North and Carolina both groan in aggravation at the habit.

“The secretaries are about as close as I have to deal with that,” North shrugs. “Which is a shame. If I don’t kiss ass then I won’t be the first one they think of when a teacher calls in for a substitute.” He gives a meaningful glint of his eye toward Carolina. “You could always butter up your lab techs since you have to work with them anyway.”

“Eh,” Carolina dismisses without a second thought. “Complaining about it gives me too much energy to run on. I can’t get rid of that just yet.”

There’s still a fuzziness to York’s head as he pulls himself off another slice and puts it on his plate. He tries not to think too much as he carries himself and the pizza of one hand and the plate of another over to the floor where Carolina’s eating. 

“We couldn’t do this if we had a dog,” Carolina reminds York with a casual smirk.

“We absolutely could,” York counters as he plops down and rests his head against the wall. He takes a breath and closes his eyes. 

He wonders idly if he should think of a good explanation before their conversation gets him there to begin with.

By the time he opens his eyes, North and Carolina are sharing glances of concern and sitting next to him. 

“Bad day?” North asks. 

“If you’re worried about your commission it’s okay,” Carolina says. “We know you guys don’t get a _lot_ of business. So we’ll just work the cut of bills around your hourly until then.”

“No more buying groceries we don’t need, though,” North warns before taking a bite of his pizza. “No matter how good they taste.”

Guts twisting a bit at their sincerity, York lets out a low laugh and rubs his face. “Well, that’s the interesting thing about work today…”

“Did you get in trouble for being late?” Carolina talks over him immediately. “Dammit, York, just let us drive you on days like today–”

“No, not… _really_ trouble for that,” York responds, throat dry enough that he puts down both his pizza and his plate. 

Both of his partners sit back and look at him in confusion. North, though, suspects something immediately. “What did you do?”

“Nothing worth getting upset over,” York claims. “All I did… Okay, look. I was _bored out of my mind–”_

“York,” Carolina falls back onto that patronizing tone of a commanding officer.

“And I played with some of the locker locks for shits and giggles,” York continues. “It wasn’t… It’s _not_ a big deal.”

North takes a breath and shakes his head. “You can get fired for pulling shit like that, York.”

“Ha, well, not anymore,” he shrugs. “I quit.”

They both stare at him like he fell to Earth from another planet. 

“You _can’t_ be serious,” Carolina snaps. 

“Look, we _all_ know I hated that stupid fucking job,” York rationalizes. “Now I’ve got the inspiration to look for another one.” When his partners’ expressions don’t quite live up to his expectations, he scratches at his head. “And don’t worry about the whole paying stuff. I’ve got that covered.”

“ _How?”_ Carolina asks thinly as North puts down his food and settles back, waiting for the momentum to die down.

“My VA check,” York answers. 

Done with the conversation apparently, Carolina picks up her plate and wineglass before heading to the kitchen, dropping one in the trash and the other in the sink. York can tell she’s at least somewhat flustered because it was the pizza in the sink and glass in the trash.

“Lina,” he tries to call after her only for North’s hand to tug on his sleeve. 

Realizing what she’s done Carolina leans against the sink and lets out a long string of incomprehensible curses. 

Looking back, she points at York. “Those checks are supposed to be helping you take care of yourself.”

He blinks before shrugging. “Isn’t that what living expenses are all about?”

“Oh my god, _no!”_ Carolina growls. “When’s the last time you even _went_ to the doctor, York? Not since I moved in! I can tell you that much!”

“And how would you know?” he sniffs defiantly.

“Because North or I would have driven you and… and…” she stops and pinches the bridge of her nose before she shakes her head. “I’m going to bed. I had too shitty of a day already for this to…” 

She storms off, leaving both men blinking after her. 

“Bed at _seven?”_ York asks critically.

“It’s not bed,” North sighs as he gets up. He grabs his own plate and wanders over to the sink, picking up the discarded pizza from Carolina and properly disposing both of them in the trash. Then he grabs a six pack from the fridge. “Get out to the porch,” he orders.

“I like your version of patronizing me a little more than hers,” York announces, pushing back up to his feet.

There’s a tired twist to North’s smile. “No one said any of this is for you.”

“Hardy har,” York sighs, not even bothering to put on shoes as they step out. He glances up to the second floor instinctively when he hears a door slam. “She _can’t_ be going to bed already–”

“People deal with emotions differently,” North says, plopping down on one of the three lawn chairs they’ve bothered to set out. “I deal with my blinding rage toward you like I do with any of my preschool students: imagining your head’s a balloon I can pop.”

“Yikes,” York comments as he grabs one of the beers despite North’s lack of an offer. “It’s not really something you two should be pissed about anyway, you know. You _both_ have said I’ve not been happy there.”

"It’s the _how_ not the _why,_ York,” North argues with a slight grunt. “There’s all of twenty places within walking distance around here. Are you about to get your license?”

“No,” York answers too soon. He _knows_ it’s too soon because of the immediate look North gives him.

“Are you ready to talk about _why?”_ North presses.

“I don’t need a why,” York shrugs. 

“Then, yeah, quitting at one of those twenty places and starting up a reputation in a town that has nothing else to talk about? Kind of a big deal,” North argues. 

Though he knows the genuine points should be more of a pressing concern to him, York tilts his head back and hums a bit at the thought. “What’s my current reputation then?”

“The cute guy who walks everywhere,” North answers between sips.

“Bullshit,” York laughs. 

“I’m friends with school secretaries, York,” North reminds him. 

York sighs and melts into his only somewhat comfortable seat. “I guess I need a job.”

“Yeah, I guess you do,” North sighs back. 


	3. No Longer a Soldier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I learned writing this that I really loved writing North, something that I thought I knew in Recovery None, where he’s one of the majorly featured characters, but it got really eye opening here. Mostly because I learned I love writing him as a teacher so much! It was just really fun to explore him in that environment. 
> 
> Special thanks to the support of @nogoawayok, @sroloc–elbisivni, @fasterthxnyou, @notatroll7, @secretlystephaniebrown, @analiarvb, @washingtonstub, @ephemeralelysium, Yin, locrianrose, and staininspace from AO3 and tumblr!

Things are distant for North.

Perhaps that is the difference at the end of the day. The _distance_  from everything. There’s a gap between him and the spaces occupied by everyone else. 

The distance between himself and battle. The distance between his end of the hall and York and Carolina’s. The distance between the ages of himself and other night class students. The distance between him and the smiling faces of the fifth grade class he substitutes for now. 

 _Distance_ defines North.

He doesn’t like it when things are in his face. Like the way a smiling look from the annoying rookie leaving the mess hall with him after lunch is right in his proximity. Or how the explosion of York’s truck right in front of their jeep. How that same smiling rookie is standing in his seat, not horrified and screaming like the rest of them. 

“This is it! We’re in war!” the kid cries out, not mortified by the real possibility that York is blown to smithereens _right in North’s face_ and–

North punches his alarm clock loud enough it lets out a mechanical wail. It’s nothing like the kid back on the battlefield when North took it upon himself to _correct behavior._ Or the wailing the kid gave their superior officers in the confusing aftermath. 

It’s more real. It’s more _now._

So North obeys it as such. 

Surviving on instinct to carry him out of bed, North crosses the room, avoiding the desk chair York left in the middle as a safety hazard. He makes it to the closet door where his dress shirt and slacks are pressed and already hanging. 

He grabs his other necessities from the dresser, makes his way to the bathroom, ignoring the mutterings from Carolina’s room that are probably coming from two people who don’t know how to _not_ hear themselves even in their sleep. 

North doesn’t think at all while he showers and fixes his hair, brushes his teeth, gets dressed for the day to come. He just does and he looks in the mirror and his _own_ eyes make him tired.

As he heads down stairs he faintly recalls the problems of the day – Miss Lecky still has not sent him a lesson plan despite being out for the rest of the week, he needs to get the newspaper and circle wanted ads for York since the man seems uniquely stubborn on the job market situation, he needs to check his class syllabi again to make sure there’s no assignment due. 

They’re the sort of list that makes each of the larger problems seem weightless and distant. How North _prefers_ to keep them. 

It’s easier to think about winging the lesson plan than how at the end of the week he doesn’t know if he’ll be working in the school again outside of tutoring for weeks. It’s easier to think about the trouble of getting York some odd jobs than it is with dealing the impending issue that is _whatever_ York’s brain thinks its doing. It’s easier to think about maintaining a four-point-o than it is that his career is still not officially started until the end of the semester.

It’s easier. More _comfortable._

Just like making breakfast. 

“Enough for everybody?” Carolina asks, crossing into the kitchen casually. She’s wearing office wear – hair in a ponytail, a minimalist effort on makeup. North likes the necklace, though the fact she wears it every day has probably left it less remarkable to her coworkers. 

“Ideally,” North shrugs. “Depends on certain people’s appetites.”

She watches him scoot the eggs off the skillet and onto a plate, her lips pressed to a thin line. 

“There was a bit of commotion this morning, huh?” Carolina asked without truly asking. She brushed past North’s backside on her way to the coffee pot. 

“In our house there always is,” North replies without any intention of carrying further than that. 

Carolina leans back against the countertop with her mug up to her lips. She hums as her eyes bear suspiciously into the back of his head. 

But North is nothing if not good at deflecting attention. “Do you want to get the newspaper today or should I?”

Switching to the York issue almost immediately draws a thoughtful look from Carolina and she lowers her mug to consider the question. North has known Carolina for several years now and it doesn’t take a psychologist to see that she near _thrives_ on not letting things go. 

“Oh, _here’s_ an idea!” 

They both glance toward the door as York walks through, rolling his eye as he pulls at his pajama bottoms’ drawstring. “How about we let _York_ deal with the newspaper so you two can stop circling things that _draws through what I’m reading.”_

“With a highlighter, York,” Carolina goes immediately for combative. “You can read through highlighter.”

“Yeah, but my contrary nature makes me uninterested in what I’m reading by default then,” York replies. “Seriously. I’ve got it. Both of you stop acting like I’m about to trip another landmine.”

Both of them flinch and watch as York lets himself out toward the front.

“Also the lady across the street _loves_ when I get the newspaper and mail shirtless!” he calls over his shoulder.

“She’s also ninety-three!” North yells back before glancing to Carolina. “I was mostly being facetious, but maybe we should let him sort this out on his own.” Seeing the way Carolina’s shoulders moved up, North sighs  and holds up his hands. “Suggestion, Carolina. _Suggestion._ I’m not here to argue about it again.”

“You just don’t want to confront him, but he needs some _tough love,”_ she says firmly. “And he’s not going to get it from anywhere but us.”

He’s more than ready to change topics again when York returns from his shirtless endeavors, looking at the newspaper. 

“Do you think they’ll stop making these soon?” he asked. “I think I’m the only person on the block besides the lady across the street who gets the local.”

“The lady who’s _ninety-three,”_ Carolina reiterates. “So it’s good to know you two have so much in common. You want to ask her if she’d like to move into the closet?”

“Ha,” York replies, “so funny. So full of sensitivity.” He talks distractedly, his eye scanning the ads rather vigorously. “These are all crap. I need to just take jobs on Craigslist if you two would just _get over it.”_

“Get over the skeeviness of you wanting solicited jobs on the internet,” North restates closer to the actual situation. 

“You two act like I was applying to be an escort,” York groans.

“The ad you showed us was asking for _illustrious, uncommitted adult male between twenty-five and twenty-eight who works out at least once a week,”_ Carolina reminds him.

“Only because that one was a joke,” York defends with a shrug. “I mean, she wasn’t even ninety-three, there was no chemistry.”

North finishes his own eggs before reaching under the newspaper in York’s hands and smacking it up to bap him in the face. 

“We’ll continue this later,” Carolina decides, looking to her watch before making a beeline for the door. 

“Which just means that she’ll keep bringing it up and we’ll keep ignoring it,” York surmises as Carolina heads out the door with only the faintest of goodbyes left in her dust. “It’s such a defeating cycle.”

“She has a point,” North says as he starts gathering his own things. “If you’re not going to talk to us, you should talk to someone else, York.”

“That’s a new complaint, I’m not talking _enough,”_ York replies, purposefully obtuse to the point of obviousness.

“You hate to admit it but you have the same problem the rest of us have these days,” North sighs, grabbing his messenger bag and slinging it over his shoulders on the way out.

“That being?” York asks, following with a plate of eggs in hand. 

“You don’t know _how_ to say the things you need to,” North answers on his way out. “See you in a while.”

“Yeah,” York says, oddly reserved for himself. “See ya.”

* * *

He’s early to class – early enough to meet the janitor as he unlocks the classroom door. Before the bussed students are released from the cafeteria or gym to come upstairs. 

North’s mindful of all the clutter on Miss Lecky’s desk, takes note of things he’ll have to move so that he can use the facility properly. 

There’s a smartboard behind the desk he’s supposed to be able to use, but the projector is hooked up to the computer and his temporary access still hasn’t started working. Probably won’t until he complains three times to the front office, which he _won’t_ because he’d like to stay on the secretaries’ good sides.

Fortunately he can move to the sides of the board and there’s still dry erase markers for the old school method of things. 

He puts up his name and email in the corner. 

The first bell rings and he can hear students racing to get upstairs. 

It’s one of the reasons he can’t imagine going higher than middle school – watching students lose that enthusiasm for school. He remembers it even from before the military, when it was from being the son of two teachers. 

North stays seated, pulls his laptop out of his messenger bag, and checks on his own schoolwork after messing with the finicky wifi. 

Children file into the fifth grade homeroom, whispering and buzzing with gossip and excitement and the curiosity that is their mysterious substitute.

By the time the last bell rings, North stands up and points to the board. 

“Hello, I’m Mister Dakota. Yes, it’s a funny name. Miss Lecky is at a conference this week so I’ll be your lit teacher until she gets back,” he informs them all with practiced insecurity. 

“Good morning, Mister Dakota,” about a third of them say back.

And North offers them a small smile. Small smiles are more comforting and calm. 

They’re also easier to fake.

* * *

With all the years that North has put toward education, the last several months of tutoring and substituting has taught him more about the _realities_ of being an educator more than any class. Mostly that the people in education could probably benefit from some time growing up themselves. 

No one necessarily has a problem with North to his face. There’s a certain stilted kindness to _all_ interactions in this nothing town of theirs, but North grew up in the middle of nowhere. He knows that the talk happens only when he’s out of the room and ends the moment he steps inside of it. 

Really, the kids are the best part of teaching. 

So when he walks into the staff’s room and notices a bit of a commonality in their forced smiles, North just takes a practiced breath and moves to the fridge for his packed lunch. Then he walks back out with a gentle nod and that same small smile he gave his students.

The question, he’s sure, on everyone’s mind in town is about the living arrangement. And _being_ from a small town, North knows to not expect much different. 

It also helps to know that the likelihood of anyone _actually_ asking him about living with two other people and whether or not there is something _worth_ the questioning is slim to none. 

No one wants to look crass in a small town, no matter how crass they all really are.

Oddly enough, North thinks as he unwraps his sandwich and bites into it as he walks down the eggshell colored hallway, if anyone does get the courage to ask, North can’t imagine he’ll say anything other than the simple truth. 

_Yes, of course it’s a relationship. But hell if any of the three of us know what kind._

He is more familiar with the school’s layout than the previous times he’s worked for a day, which is a good sign for the rest of his week as he sits in for Miss Lecky. It also means that while he holds a sandwich in one hand and his phone in the other, he can _almost_ trust his feet to carry him the right way to the playground. 

His fingers work practically on their own, dialing a familiar number with practiced ease, as he takes another bite of his sandwich and eyes the rest of the contents of the bag hanging by his wrist. 

There’s a dial tone in his ear for a moment, then the ring, and a predictable voicemail the moment he backs into the doors to let himself out to the grounds of the school.

“No one’s calling this unless you’re my brother. If you’re my brother you’ve probably already left a message today. If you’ve already left a message today, _would you leave me alone already?_ If you’re not leaving me alone, go ahead. Say it.”

He waits for the beep, feels the first genuine smile to cross his face since he arrived at work that morning, and responds as he always did. “Sis, you’re always a pleasure to get a hold of and, right now, to _not_ get a hold of. If you find it within yourself to actually _call_ me back instead of _text_ , I would be forever gratified.” He tilts his other wrist up enough to check his watch before sniffing slightly. “ _Slight_ amendment to that request. I’m working until three fifteen this afternoon. So if you can give me a call back _after_ then, I will be amazed at the fact you listened this long. Heart you,” he added only halfway sarcastically and then hung up. 

The air outside the school’s walls is thick, muggy from the recent rains. 

On tour, North had all but forgotten what humidity even felt like. Touching down on alien soil was enthralling, captivating, and fearful beyond compare. 

For a moment North stands still, orienting himself just under the arches of the school entrance, looking through the wire fencing toward the playgrounds. 

The sidewalk’s worth of distance between him and the screaming, running, excitable students might as well be an ocean. He looks at them through the fence and wondered how many of them were little soldiers. 

His teeth click together as his jaw sets to the very thought. 

He hopes none of them. 

Moving forward, North counts his breaths. It is an old exercise, one that usually was performed with a rifle strapped over his back, but it was soothing all the same. 

In the mouth, out the nose. One two. One two. 

His steps fall into rhythm and he reaches out for the fence’s door to open it without ever realizing how close he’d gotten to the playground to begin with. 

The basketballs hit metal rims and chains with thunderous clacking and North wondered if anyone saw how hesitant he was to enter the area of hot tarmac and screaming children. How _unsettled_ those very basic things a teacher shouldn’t even _blink_ at made him. 

He chews on the inside of his mouth just before his pants vibrated and he looked to his phone, pulled gratefully from the moment. 

When he pulls out phone he can see all he needed from his sister’s response in the preview window. 

> STH: No. Call me weekend. Loser.

And it is the nicest correspondence they’ve had this week.

Running a hand through his hair, North can’t help but laugh at the message and considers sending her a stupid emoji back when a figure in the distance catches his eye. He glances up more directly and, sure enough, finds himself being waved to by York.

“Again?” he asks with a sigh before moving forward, stuffing his phone back into his pants pocket.

“Hey,” York says, leaned against the fence and watching the playground. “Shouldn’t you be in there? Herding the livestock or something? They look like they’re running amuck.”

“You obviously don’t remember playground time much,” North replies, joining York on the fence. “You trying to get me a _stern talking to_ from the office ladies? About visitors and school safety and all that?”

“I thought they like you,” York marvels.

“They love me. They love gossip more,” North answers, watching the kids. 

His breaths are even without even trying, and there’s a certain gentleness to his gaze he was searching desperately for earlier in the day. He’s calmed. The screams don’t feel like a call to terror anymore. 

North even watches a kid fall onto the wood chips from the monkey bars, dust herself off, and continue toward the newly opened swing she desires without feeling like he’s going to have a heart attack. 

But that doesn’t make it any more right that York’s there now. 

“What trouble are you up to?” he asks York somewhat seriously. 

York points at himself. “Me? Trouble? Perish the thought,” he says with feigned astonishment. 

“ _York,”_ North sighs. 

“I wasn’t having much luck on the job search,” he answers. “So I was walking around town and making a good name for myself. I’m sure if you talk to the office ladies they’ll tell you all about it.”

North blinks a few times before glancing toward York skeptically. “What did you do?”

“Hm,” York hums, holding up his fingers. “I helped a lady with her groceries, I helped some dude with his blown tire, and I asked around some of the local antique stores if they needed movers and gave them my number to call if they did.”

He squints at York. “You did all that in four hours _after_ searching for jobs?” 

Tapping his fingers on the fence, York hums and looks away. “Maybe I didn’t spend as much time job searching as I thought.”

“Uh huh,” North says. “So what? Twenty minutes? _Thirty?”_

“What’s the rush anyway?” York grumps. “I made fifty bucks today!”

“Oh, that’ll cover a lot,” North sighs. 

York’s eyes narrow and he pushes off from the fence. “Hey, could you and Carolina for _maybe_ five or ten minutes at some point stop reminding me that I don’t have my shit together. Celebrate little victories with me for once and all that shit? This _quiet disapproval_ thing makes you _way_ more of an ass than I’ve ever been.”

North shakes his head. “You don’t have the powers of self-reflection I once thought you did.”

“Fuck off–” York catches himself and coughs awkwardly into his fist before glancing toward the kids. None of which seem to even notice there’s two men in an intimate discussion just yards away from the playground equipment. “I mean…”

“You’re right,” North interrupts. “We’re not being fair. We’ll try to do better.”

Surprise masks York’s face for a moment. He blinks before scratching at his jaw. “Oh. Uh. Well… Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”

“I’ll start by giving you a ride home as soon as I’m done today,” North continues. He points toward the parking lot. “I’m in the guest spot at the end. Just, whenever you finish up with whatever you’re doing, just meet me at the car and–”

“Nah,” York shrugs. “I’ll be home before you. Gotta make dinner and all that junk.”

North crosses his arms. “But–”

“Hey, ask your office lady friends,” York says with a wink. “I’m the guy who walks, after all!”

They hold each other’s gaze for a long moment and North thinks he knows York’s ready to move on with _whatever_ plans he has for the day before York does. He can see the twitchiness in York’s gaze, already ready always in motion. It unsettles North even more than the screams of the children because – that eye still isn’t done scarring. 

York’s face is a lot closer than the explosion ever was to him, and North hates that a little bit more than he can express. So instead of expressing he grabs his partner’s wrist and pulls him forward into a hug. 

The other veteran immediately stiffens, caught off guard. It’s very rare for York to _not_ be the one initiating such things between the three of them. 

“Um,” York laughs awkwardly.

“Don’t get caught in the rain this afternoon, don’t be cocky and walk too close to the road,” North orders right in York’s ear.

“See, _my_ plan was to just paddle through the rain and walk right down the median,” York replies sarcastically.

“Don’t be an ass,” North warns. 

“Too late.” 

The moment North lets go, he’s stuck watching York walking backwards with a satisfied grin and an easy salute to him. And he thinks _I followed this guy out into the middle of nowhere._

The kids are yelling and playing and falling off gym equipment like no tomorrow but North isn’t panicking at the noises and he doesn’t feel his throat closing off as he walks toward the fence door. 

That alone might make following York’s inane plans just a little bit more worth it.

* * *

His day drags after lunch, but only in the way that it always drags for the last three hours of school. And North actually finds it somewhat a relief – that _normal_ sense of dragging on as opposed to the heightened awareness he’s had the whole morning that he’s not quite as functional as he likes to think he is.

It’s the sort of success one relishes in privately as the last bell rings, as he returns the classroom key to the secretaries, makes small talk until the after school rush leaves the parking lot, and makes his way back to his car. 

The sort that he lets fade behind his facade as he pulls into the house with his name on the lease and is content to just see everyone else is home and unawares to his very trying morning. 

At least he’s happy about it until he opens the door and smells pizza again.

Carolina smirks at him as she sits on the kitchen island, business wear disheveled and hair down from her ponytail – a true rarity.

York is standing nearby with a happy wave to the pizza dish sitting uncomfortably close to the edge of the counter. “Ta da!”

“Hm,” North says, a small smile on his lips as he undoes the first few buttons of his shirt to loosen up for the evening. “Not to bring into question your culinary skills, York–”

“Here’s the _but,”_ York stage whispers to Carolina. 

“ _But,”_ North continues with an affectionate flick to York’s ear as walks by and takes the paper plate Carolina offers him. “I feel like this is, oh, the _fifth_ pizza in two weeks.”

“I thought you liked pizza,” York replies. 

“Everyone likes pizza,” Carolina agrees. “But I think North is showing concern for variety in our diet.” She then makes no bones about taking a bite of her own slice.

“Exactly,” North agrees, looking at York’s nonchalant reaction to the critique. 

Purposefully obtuse, York pops open his beer and tilts his head. “So next time you want what? A _Hawaiian pizza?_ Can do.”

“Vegetables are our friends, guys,” he reminds them, reaching for the available slices. “If I need to bring the Health Ed chart with me tomorrow, I will. Don’t tempt me to steal from the school. Those obnoxious colored posters make themselves tempting enough to tear down.”

“Wow, _that’s_ a sign you’re fit for your profession,” Carolina teases. 

“And here I was going to suggest, just for you, we could paint all the rooms in primaries,” York joins in, waving his hands around in the air despite spilling some beer on the tile. “We could get all the neighbors to start calling us the _Crayola House._ I kinda like it already.”

Both North and Carolina shiver. 

“Please, no,” North attempts to plead with a laugh just as a rapping on the door draws all their attention. 

They look to the door in joint confusion before North glances to his partners. 

“Are you guys expecting someone?” 

“No,” York replies quickly.

“I don’t even know anyone outside the office,” Carolina marvels. 

“Well, I’ll get it,” North says, putting his plate down and heading toward the door. “Last to get food never eats in this house, I swear.”

It could have been anyone at the door, and North wonders briefly if small towns like their still have the plague upon the earth that is door to door salesmen when his blood begins to run cold. 

He takes a moment to stand in the foyer, looking at the distinctive blue flashes of light coming in through the living room window before looking to the door and opening it. 

When North opens the door and sees the somber faces of the two officers standing there, his heart all but stops. He barely even processes the sounds of York and Carolina dropping their dinners with a clatter. 

North is just staring at the police in horror, his mind racing with one thought.

_South._

He is taken by complete surprise when the officer up front tilts his head and asks, “Is this the Church resident?” 

Mouth dry and still trying to remember how to work, North looks back instinctively toward the kitchen before glancing back to the officer. “A Church _does_ live here,” he finally manages to get out just as Carolina brushes up to his side.

“I’m Caroline Church,” she says, face as hardened and wary as the day North first saw her in uniform.

“Ma’am,” the officer says, though North thinks none of them needed to hear it to know what is coming next, “I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”

North turns just enough to see the icy coldness to Carolina’s eyes, the lack of reaction or surprise. He then looks to see York’s complete confusion to match his own. 

And North wonders why he’s been so satisfied to think that he’s the only one in the house keeping secrets. 


	4. Family Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so happy to get this story back into regular updates! I hated putting this on hiatus out of all of my projects, but I needed some time to finish up other loose ends before fully coming back to this story because I feel like this is at least one story I have which really deserves my full concentration. And because I’ve gotten so much amazing love and support so far on this story from all of you, I want to do you all justice. So thank you all very much for giving this story its wings, I really appreciate it. This update’s all for you <3
> 
> Special thanks to the support of @the-unintelligent-hologram, @freshzombiewriter, @washingtonstub, @analiarvb, @sroloc–elbisivni, @secretlystephaniebrown, @fasterthxnyou, @ephemeralelysium, staininspace, Yin, @ephemeraltea, and locrianrose from AO3 and tumblr!

Carolina’s time working in a leadership position taught her several key things, not the least of which is the lesson that she must be made to expect the unexpected. 

Anything could have come through that door before North answered it, and yet Carolina is the least surprised when the officers make it clear they’re here for her.

“An accident?” York repeats from the officer. His hand is rough as he puts it on Carolina’s shoulder, brushing against her as he steps forward. It’s the kind of tactile familiarity that he has with everyone, and the reason Carolina conceded to this situation they’re all in to begin with. “What kind of accident? And who? I mean,” he looks back to North then to the officers, “everyone’s here?”

She can see the officer begin to open his mouth, begin to answer and she just can’t have that.

Stepping away from York, Carolina turns on her partners and gives them a straight face. It’s at least enough to quirk their eyebrows at her.

“This is something I need to handle alone,” she tells them. “Please, just go back inside and finish dinner. I’ll explain everything when I come back in.”

“What?” North asks, face screwed together in confusion.

“You _can’t_ be serious,” York says, head tilting. “Carolina, is something wrong? You can–”

“In a minute,” she says firmly. “Now go inside, please.”

At first, neither man makes moves to go back in their house, especially as the officer pulls awkwardly at his collar. 

“Ma’am, we are offering to escort you to the hospital. You may not want to go back inside,” he says.

“Hospital?” York repeats again. He stops, flinching back as North grabs his arm and pulls him closer inside. 

She looks to North, prepared to convey her gratefulness to him only to see an untrusting eye thrown her way. Carolina accepts it, watching as North pulls York all the way to the kitchen behind them and begin arguing the action almost immediately. 

After a moment, she turns back to the officers and hugs her arms, taking a breath. 

Imagining preparation for a briefing, Carolina cools her nerves then opens her eyes, looking at the officers. “I’m assuming this is my brother we’re talking about,” she says calmly enough.

“Miss Church,” the officer says lowly, “it seems as though your oldest brother–”

“He wasn’t the oldest,” she corrects, a little harsher than perhaps intended.

“Was speeding tonight and lost control of his vehicle, hitting a cliff facing head on,” the man continues. 

Her fingers, almost of their own volition, tap against her arm. “Lost control,” she muttered under her breath. “Did anyone else get hurt?” she asked, looking back to them.

“Your youngest brother was not in the vehicle with him,” they say, beginning to look suspicious of her reactions. “We have someone waiting with him in the emergency room as they operate.”

Carolina opens her mouth, surprised at the lack of words. Her brain seems to have halted at the information, trying desperately to restart itself and understand what she is being told.

“Theo?” she finally manages. “Theo is there but… Why isn’t he with his mother? Why is…” The information clicks together and Carolina runs her fingers through her hair. “Goddammit.”

“Ma’am, your brother is severely injured, and our investigations are continuing,” they explain. “And your youngest brother, still being a minor, needs to go to the closest living relative’s custody for now while we straighten things out.”

Carolina lowers her head. “I understand, officer. We’ve had to deal with something similar before,” she explains before taking a breath. “I’m guessing the nearest hospital with an emergency room is here. We service the five hour radius.”

“It is,” the first says. “Do you need us to wait for you to grab some things. We understand this is quite a shock–”

“No,” Carolina shakes her head. “I work at the hospital. I can drive myself there. I have to explain to… my roommates what’s going on. Thank you. I’ll figure it out as I get there.”

When she begins to move back for the door, the officers look to each other then back. “Ma’am, we must insist that you let us take you to the hospital. It’s to ensure your safety. We understand that this must be shocking news–”

“I’m a soldier, sirs,” she says firmly. “I can appreciate protocol, but I can also take bad news. Thank you and good night.”

She shuts the door just in time for her arm to shake loose, the tremble moving throughout her body. Teeth clattering for a moment, Carolina allows her forehead to rest on the door as she attempts to even her breaths. 

“Carolina?”

Glancing back, she sees her partners still in the kitchen but both looking at her warily, as if she’s some sort of fragile creature. It makes her grind her teeth. 

“I’m going to the hospital,” she informs them, moving to the stairs. “You guys continue eating. I don’t know if I’ll be back tonight or not.”

“What? That’s it? That’s all you’re giving us?” York demands, racing from the kitchen to follow her. 

“Drop it, York,” Carolina orders. 

“The hospital… so there was an accident at the lab where you work?” North asks, a note of hope in his voice, as if he’s grasping at the last logical thread he can for the situation.”

She hesitates halfway up the stairs. It’s tempting – tempting to let the available explanation slide.

But if she’s coming home with someone else, well, it’ll be a mess to clear up later and she doesn’t know if she’ll have the energy to deal with both of her roommates angry with her at once. 

“I…” she begins, turning back to see their confused but attentive faces. “My brother was in a car accident, they think.”

York blinks. “Brother? What brother? You have a _brother?_ You didn’t tell us you had a brother.”

“Two,” Carolina corrects. “I still have two brothers. It looks like my half-brother was staying with him, too, which means I’ll need to let him sleep in my room for the night perhaps.”

North squints at her. “You have family? You have family _nearby?”_

“It wasn’t relevant until now,” she tells them. “We’re… none of us are close anymore. I don’t even know how they found me except that they brought Ellison to the hospital I work at.”

The taller man’s face hardens, shadows falling over him. He doesn’t say anything to that.

“Okay, let me grab my jacket,” York says, turning and heading toward the hall closet. 

“You don’t need to come with me,” Carolina attempts to argue.

“That’s bullshit,” York declares as he grabs three jackets and throws one at North’s head and the other to Carolina. “North, you’re driving. Carolina’s not driving with her mind _obviously_ fragged by all this. And I’m sure as hell not getting left behind. Now come on.”

And with the same motivations that got them all to agree to live together to begin with, York rushes out the front door. North merely glances at Carolina with something blank and unforgiving about his expression before following York out.

With a moment to herself on the stairs, Carolina closes her eyes and allows the shakes to return before she goes upstairs and takes her time grabbing a tie to pull her hair up. 

* * *

The drive she makes herself to the hospital nearly every day is stretching out for ages as the three of them make it together in North’s car. 

It’s the first time since the three of them first got together that a car ride has had more noise from its engine than any of them. And the silent mistrust and blame does not escape Carolina as she sits there, fretting, fingers curling as her nails dig into her jeans and releasing. 

She avoids the awkwardness of sitting next to the overly concerned York by choosing instead to sit beside the silently raging North instead. 

It’s the lesser of two evils. 

When another minute lasts a second too long, Carolina shifts her body entirely and looks toward the window. 

York shifts noisily for the hundredth time and leans forward with his forearms pressing into their headrests. North doesn’t so much as flinch from it but Carolina can’t help how her eyes are drawn to York in response. 

“How old are they?” he asks, breaking the silence by going straight to the bare bones of it. 

“Excuse me,” Carolina says back all the same. 

“Your brothers,” he presses. “I mean… are your parents going to be there–”

“No,” she answers sternly. “They’re dead.”

Rubbing at his jaw, York lets out a long breath and seems to be racking his brain for a way to salvage the non-conversation as best he can. Carolina hopes almost childishly that he gives up because she’s simply not in the mood for it. 

But she also knows York too well to imagine it will end there if she doesn’t take charge.

“Ellison is twenty-two,” Carolina answers at last. “Theo is eleven. But he wasn’t in the wreck so there’s that.”

At that news, North’s grip on the steering wheel tightens noticeably, a vein on his jaw jumping. Carolina can’t help but raise a brow.

“Eleven?” York repeats, nearly choked. “But… Damn, Carolina. That means he couldn’t have been more than a baby when you enlisted.”

Looking very matter of fact into the rearview mirror back at him, Carolina nods. “More or less. I left home not long after the wedding.” She glances off again, scoffing. “Missed the divorce.”

“You said your parents are dead,” North suddenly cuts in, voice coming out unusual and barkish. Any of his usual gentleness is erased. “Is that _dead_ or _not bothering to reveal they exist_?”

“North,” York chastises. 

“Dead,” Carolina answers. And it surprises even her how little emotion that revelation carries for her. It’s just _nothing_ , not compared to admitting her brothers exist. 

North grits his teeth. “Your eldest brother has has your youngest this whole time, Carolina? You _just_ said he’s only twenty-two–”

“He’s _not_ the eldest,” Carolina snaps. “Not really.”

York sits back, scratching at his head. “There’s _another?”_

 _“No,”_ Carolina hisses, officially finding her patience gone. “I am not having this conversation right now.”

“We’re on the way to the hospital to meet the brothers you never bothered to mention to us, Carolina,” North reminds her sharply. “I’m almost curious to know when you think is a good time to have the conversation.”

Her answer is on the tip of her tongue, but Carolina refuses to utter it. Instead she shifts in her seat and presses as tightly against the door as she can, looking listlessly as the trees speed by them. 

She barely feels York’s hand on her shoulder before she shrugs it off. 

After a moment, York sighs and gives into anger over the situation as well. He crosses his arms and shakes his head in disappointment, looking more like North than either of them would ever realize. 

And it stings but Carolina relishes in her pick of seats. 

At least North didn’t have to build _up_ to the disappointment. Lesser of two evils indeed.

* * *

She walked into the hospital every single day, and had for months. But this time, walking in through the Emergency Room doors, approaching the information deck, completely ignoring the line, it feels completely foreign to her. 

And even if deep down she knows it makes her truly terrible, Carolina can’t help the inching forward of the thought in her mind.

 _Why,_ her brain racked itself. _Why did they bring him_ here. _To_ my _place. To where I feel safe and normal and_ removed _from everything._

The nurse at the front desk looks at her expectantly, brows arched high in suspicion. It only grows more skeptical as two men flank Carolina from behind, both infinitely more out of place in the hospital than Carolina looks even at her most frazzled. 

York in particular scratches at the corners of his bad eye and shifts his gaze around the ER more than once. 

“Ma’am, if you need help, you can fill out a form and we’ll be getting right to you,” the nurse begins to say, reaching for said forms, before Carolina reaches forward and pushes the clipboard back to the nurse’s side of the station. 

“I just need to be told where to go,” she says. “I work here,” she clarifies after a moment. When it does nothing to wane the nurse’s look, Carolina ran a hand through her bangs. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to being on this side of the table. My brother was in a car accident. They’re supposed to be operating on him right now.”

A spark of understanding comes into the nurse’s eyes and she releases a breath before moving her hands to the keyboard of her computer. “Name?” she asks.

“Caroline Church,” Carolina responds before sinking her head into her hands again with a long sigh. “Sorry. His name is _Ellison Church._ E-l-l–”

“Carolina?” York speaks up, tugging on Carolina’s sleeve.

“What?” she asks, looking in his direction only to find that York isn’t looking her way at all but over toward one of the hubs in the waiting area. Her eyes focus and she sees the little boy who has captured both York and North’s attention. 

There is a woman in a suit attempting to speak to the boy, failing miserably to keep his attention it seems. He’s wearing a jacket an too big t-shirt that doesn’t quite match the pajama pants and untied sneakers. His bright red hair and green eyes are nearly as distracting as the freckles.

Carolina holds her ground, but she’s unable to really find any words for the moment as it stretches on.

“He’s been staring at you the whole time,” York informs her. “Is that him? The one you said was younger?”

She’s concentrating on her breathing more than anything else. Wondering when he got so big, how the hell he managed to get her nose over the years. But slowly she thinks over York’s words. “Yes,” she says. “I think so.”

North visibly bristles, a kind of quiet fury tightly contained on his face as he looks at Carolina. “You _think_ that’s your brother?” he asks critically.

Even York doesn’t seem thrilled with her hesitation. And by that point the woman in the suit has taken notice of where the boy’s attention really lies and is staring at Carolina, too.

 _Everyone_ is staring at Carolina, and she’s never felt more disgust at that.

“Ma’am,” the nurse at the counter says, finally tearing Carolina from her frozen stupor. She’s holding up a pager – dent and scratched up, but judging by the barely lit screen and the calmly flashing light on the side, still operational. “This will keep you updated throughout the surgery on your brother. You can sit anywhere in the waiting room. There’s also a few stations in the cafeteria still open at this hour if you need food or coffee. We’ll have a doctor come and update you on the extent of your brother’s injuries and progress shortly.”

For a moment, Carolina lets it sink in just how _unreal_ it is to be there, to not be there as an employee.

And more than that, to be there for the brothers she had actively avoided for years.

“Ma’am,” the nurse says, pressing the pager into the palm of Carolina’s hand. “Do you need help finding somewhere to sit down?”

Carolina tears her eyes from Theo for a moment and opens her mouth to respond, but nothing of substance comes out. Really, nothing at all comes from the attempt.

When York’s arm wrap around her shoulders and start to pull Carolina away from the desk, she moves with him stiffly but not in conscience resistance. 

“It’s alright, thank you,” York tells the nurse as he moves their tiny group away from the line at the desk to avoid any further clogging. He then turns a wary eye on Carolina. “Are you going to be okay?” 

She scowls at him, not even sure how he can expect an answer to such a ridiculous question, when North steps up closer to them. 

“You need to go check on your brother,” North says snappishly. “He’s a _kid_ , Carolina. An honest to god kid.”

York relaxes his grip on Carolina enough to turn and face their third partner. “Okay, ease up a bit. She’s shocked.”

“I can see that,” North responds, but there’s none of his usual warmth in his voice. “But there’s a child involved here and Carolina needs to step up. And I need to see that she can do it before I take off.”

“Take off?” York asks, looking surprised himself. “What do you mean _take off?_ Take off where?”

“Home,” North says. “I need to sleep, I have to teach tomorrow–”

“You can’t be serious,” York scoffs. “You’re going to leave us here? Carolina needs us!”

“We don’t know what she needs. She’s didn’t tell us to come, and she _definitely_ didn’t tell us that she has a _family here,_ York. We don’t know anything about this situation and not _once_ since the police arrived has she offered to explain any of it to us,” North fires back.

Carolina looks away from the arguing, ignoring what she can of it, and refocuses on Theo. He’s staring at her again and by this time the social worker looks ready to walk over and introduce herself.

If Carolina never has to introduce herself to another social worker again it’ll be too soon. 

There’s laughter and crying and shouting still printed in the back of her brain that’s threatening to resurface and make itself known if she has to spend too long with the woman in the suit. So instead she pulls from York’s arms and without explanation to either of her partners, moves toward her half-brother.

“I’m sorry, are you Miss Church?” the woman with exhausted eyes and a bit of frizz to her hair asks as she offers a hand.

“Yes,” Carolina says, side stepping the woman entirely. “I’m sorry, I’ll talk to you in a second.”

Putting off that conversation as long as possible, Carolina makes her way instead toward Theo. It is amazing how, giving herself something to run from makes approaching her forgotten family that much easier. 

Theo straightens up in his seat, eyes widening a bit. As if it is genuinely surprising to have Carolina come close to him. And she supposes, really, it kind of _is._

Then, just feet away from her brother, Carolina comes to a stop. She isn’t entirely sure what she had been expecting once she got to him, but her mind is utterly blank once she’s finally there. 

“Hello,” she says numbly. 

For a moment, the younger Church simply squints at her. His hands clench at the fabric around his knees. “Hello,” he says back.

"I am…” Carolina thinks for a moment. She isn’t sure what she should say to introduce herself. Her name? That she’s his half-sister? That she’s only barely able to process that the last time she saw him it was in a hospital, too?

"You’re Caroline, aren’t you?” Theo asks for her. “You’re Ellison’s sister.”

“And Alphonse,” she corrects without even meaning to. She watches the uncomfortable shift that causes from Theo and immediately regrets it so she lowers to one knee in front of him instead. “And yours,” she says instead.

Theo, rightfully so, looks at her with complete apprehension. “Is Ellison going to die?”

“I don’t know,” she answers, feeling her throat begin to knot up. 

“I’ve only seen you when people die,” he continues. “So… maybe you should go away now.”

There’s something blurring Carolina’s vision and she forces herself to swallow. “Maybe,” she agrees. “But, just for a while, I can sit here with you? It’s better than sitting somewhere else in this waiting room alone. For both of us.” 

He thinks about it for a moment, before nodding. 

Carolina concentrates on breathing as she stands back on her feet momentarily before taking the seat beside Theo. 

They sit together quietly.

She can see now that the social worker is deep in conversation with York and North, with the former giving animated gestures throughout the conversation, his full East Coast self working its way out in the hysteria and confusion. 

Rather than jump in to take over the responsibilities being thrown at her new family, Carolina looks to the pager she was handed and waits for it to change its updates. 

Occasionally, Theo leans in to look at the pager as well. So much like another brother too smart to sit idly in another waiting room ages ago. 

It’s enough to keep Carolina lost in the chaos, sitting silently between the current horror and haunting pasts. Letting the world burn all over again.


	5. Unexpected Responsibilities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One week later and we get the next chapter! That’s unfortunately an accomplishment in my book at this point lol But really, I can’t thank everyone enough for supporting this story and continuing to support it now that it’s back to regular updates. I really appreciate that more than I can tell.
> 
> I also feel inclined to warn you that from this point on, we start getting more and more into the warnings I have posted for this work. Specifically, there’s going to be a lot of tough implications with regards to depression, PTSD, and suicide. I hope to treat all of these subjects with respect and diligence but I want everyone reading to be prepared for them all the same. And most importantly of all, to let me know if (read: when) I mess up in any way on these things. Your critique and support is appreciated and welcomed. 
> 
> Special thanks to the support of @freshzombiewriter, @secretlystephaniebrown, @analiarvb, @fasterthxnyou, @washingtonstub, locrianrose, @ephemeraltea, Yin, and @notatroll7 from AO3 and tumblr!

Ever since quitting the furniture store, York gets antsy around people in suits and he’s not entirely sure what to blame the feeling on. So he shrinks back slightly as the social worker approaches him and North. 

“Hello, I’m sorry, I thought I saw you both coming in with Miss Church,” she says to them, extending her hand. “Are one of you her significant other?”

His usual sociality flooding his systems again, York smirks and reaches forward, accepting the woman’s offered hand and shaking it strongly. 

“Yes,” he says about the same time as North says, “No.”

A little caught off guard, York looks at North testily. He can tell that the other man is still very much pissed at Carolina. There’s a certain tired way his eyes star into York with his arms crossed and lips pressed tightly together. 

“I’m sorry,” York manages to get out once he realizes that the glares have held for a beat too long and begun to make the social worker look rather awkwardly between them. He forces a smile and throws a thumb toward North. “We all live together. We’re Carolina’s own little support group.”

The social worker’s brows raise slightly, as if she’s uncertain of what to make of the explanation but she quickly looks down instead to a stack of papers held to her clipboard. “I have very little information on Miss Church. She isn’t listed as one of Theo’s contacts in his school records.”

“No kidding?” York asks, still unsure of whether that is by Carolina’s own design or not. “Well, you know she’s been serving the country for many years.”

“Theo told me,” she says agreeably enough. “After the staff here realized that their patient was related to the same Church who headed the diagnostic labs here, I asked Theo what he could tell me.” There is a certain sharpness to her eyes as she looks at them. “He nor Ellison have ever brought her up before. Which is _unusual_ considering the circumstances of their custody and emancipation respectively.” 

York has no idea what to make of _any_ of that so he merely strings his thumbs through the belt loops of his pants and gives a, “Huh.”

When he looks over at North for some semblance of help, York is met with a continued grimace from his partner. Which, York supposes, is at least better than his _entirely_ disapproving scowl that North wore the entire ride to the hospital, but it’s not exactly helpful either. Which is York’s excuse for why he harshly elbows North in the ribs. 

“Help me out here,” he half whispers. 

North looks at York genuinely perplexed. “How?”

“I don’t know,” York says, waving his hand to the studious social worker. “You work in schools. Use your expertise.”

That, at least, seems to get the attention of the social worker. “Do you work locally?”

“For the county school,” North explains. “I’m taking night classes in Franklin and working here during the day. Our – York, Carolina, and I – we live nearby.”

The social worker seems genuinely relieved by the news and makes a point of taking down some notes on her clipboard. York _swears_ that every time he looks at the thing, the stack of papers has only grown thicker. 

“Do you think you could tell me some about the school, give me some contacts to speak to in the morning?” she asks, turning fully toward North. “I’m a few hours outside of my usual service area and… Well, almost anyway tonight ends up playing out will end with Theo needing to at least temporarily relocate and his current school is a decent drive away to go to everyday.”

North side eyes York, momentarily giving that disapproving scowl, but he shifts back into his calmer demeanor as he looks to the social worker completely. “Absolutely. I’ll help anyway I can.”

Out of his own leagues, but more than grateful to have North roped into the situation even if it’s not to his liking, York pats North’s shoulder and gives an apologetic smile to the social worker. 

“I don’t know if I’ll be much help here, but I’ll get Carolina talking again. She’s been a little bit in shock since she got the news,” he explains. “Sorry if she was rude or anything to you earlier.”

There is a worn out glint to her smile as she shakes her head. “I can assure you that on _my_ list of experiences in these situations, that doesn’t even begin to register as _rude.”_

Patting North’s shoulder condescendingly one last time, York moves past the two of them and instead toward the waiting area where Carolina and Theo are seated in utter silence. 

From a distance, York never got a good look at the little brother, but throughout his approach he begins to take in as much about the kid as he can. Trying to siphon _some_ sort of understanding of the situation that has been thrown in his face tonight. 

At first the most important thing he can seem to glean is that the kid has a healthy choice in pajama bottoms, appreciating that Ninja Turtles is relevant still despite it being more than a decade since York watched them on Saturday mornings himself. But beyond that he can see there’s a definite resemblance between Theo and Carolina that he might not have noticed at first. 

They both have strong cheekbones and the noticeable red hair, though Theo’s is duller hue than Carolina’s. The same striking green eyes are found on both siblings, and a curious way they hold their jaws impatiently – and _awkwardly_ – seems to be a shared family trait as well. 

As he gets closer, Carolina bothers to give him an appreciative look before turning her attention back to the pager in her hand. 

The kid stays locked on York throughout his walk, growing an only more suspicious and curious look as York stops in front of him.

Lowering down to his haunches, York tries to look level at Theo, wondering if the kid is small for his age or if York’s just _that_ unused to kids. He forces a softer smile. 

“Hey there,” York says. “I’m York. I’m a… Well, I’m your sister’s friend. We live at the same house together. I hear your name’s Theo.”

Theo’s face scrunches slightly as if he’s disturbed at the tone York’s using. “Um. Hi?”

Unable to help himself, York lets out a small snort and rubs at the back of his neck. “Let me guess… That’s a little too goofy to talk to an eleven-year-old, huh?”

Theo doesn’t smile his way so much as he offers a look of pity. Which registers to York as a low point in his life – utter pity from an elementary school kid who’s been through a traumatic night. 

“It’s okay,” Theo says understandably. “I mean, I’m almost twelve. So it might’ve been better earlier in the year.”

York laughs. “You’re too kind.” 

He watches as Theo sits back in his seat and seems distracted by Carolina’s pager for just a moment, then begins tiredly leaving his eyelids at half mast. 

It’s already been a long night, and from the sounds of things it’s just about to get longer. 

Taking a moment, York looks back to North and the social worker only to see that North is free and looking their way. York takes the hint and glances to Carolina and Theo. 

“Hey, Theo,” York says softly, getting the sleepy kid’s attention once more. “I’m real sorry to ask this of you, bud, but do you think I can borrow your sister for a minute or two? There’s something we’ve gotta talk about with… our other friend. That okay?”

There’s a momentary confusion that crosses the kid’s face before he forcefully shrugs and sits back in his chair. “I don’t care,” he says. 

The bluntness is enough to make York flinch but Carolina didn’t so much as blink. Instead, she rises to her feet and without even looking at Theo starts walking toward North. 

Giving Carolina a look, York gets to his feet as well. He hesitates, looking to Theo and forcing a smile. “I’ll have her right back to you.”

It doesn’t take much to catch up with Carolina after that. It’s almost as if she’s traveling in slow motion. 

Which is about as opposite of Carolina as York can imagine. 

“Hey,” he whispers as they walk shoulder to shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says simply. 

York frowns, eye narrowed. “You don’t _act_ fine to me, Carolina.”

Her green eyes turn sharply toward him. There’s a certain calculating calm to her that feels dangerous. It’s a look she’s worn on the battlefield before and York can’t say he likes the feeling it gives him deep in his gut. 

“You so confident you know anything about me anymore?” she asks flatly, like she can’t be bothered either way he answers. 

For a moment, York’s not even sure he should respond to the question, it’s just so strange and out of place. He’s wondering where this is all coming from, why after so long of entangled together, after laughing about frozen pizzas and wine, can she pretend that it’s anything but the _real_ her. 

“Yeah, I am,” he says instead. 

She quietly looks him over, _evaluating_ him, as they come to a stop by North. 

“Alright,” North says, drawing York’s full attention away from Carolina herself. “I’m officially involved with this.”

“Don’t sound so happy about it,” York grouches back, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I don’t want you to feel obligated to get involved on my behalf,” Carolina says, detached in a way that York simply can’t place. “I’m sorry I’ve not told either of you about this situation before, but frankly I’ve been under the impression that it wasn’t going to be my business, let alone yours. And it still doesn’t have to _be_ yours.”

Officially confused, York cocks his head to the side and looks at Carolina expectantly. “What are you talking about? Of course it’s now our business.”

“Carolina, I just bought you time with child protective services,” North informs her, his voice edging on testy. “They need to have a long talk with you about all of this going down, but I know enough that things haven’t been looking great for your other brother. And I’m sorry to hear that, I _really_ am. But you can’t really be expecting to leave here _without_ temporary custody of your youngest brother. They’re wanting to talk to the school system for christsake.”

“Of course I’m not expecting to abandon Theo right now,” Carolina says, in perhaps her least convincing voice yet. “But I’m not planning on putting all of that on you two either. I already covered my part of the utilities for the month and with that I’ve got enough to get us a hotel room.”

York looks at her utterly aghast. He honestly feels offended. “Do  you really think we would do that to you? _Jesus,_ Carolina…”

“It’s not because I think you two would ask outright or anything,” Carolina attempts to explain only to be stopped as North holds up a hand. 

“Okay, don’t make another assumption about us. You sound utterly ridiculous right now,” North says harshly. “We _will_ have a talk about the fact that you never bothered to tell us you have family–”

She grows a stubborn pout to her lip. “It wasn’t your–”

“Alright,” York says, eyeing the tell-tale sign of North growing frustrated with the curl of his nose. “Look, this is a shock to everyone’s system. And there’s a lot of shit to get done.” He throws a thumb in the direction of the now impatiently waiting social worker. “Starting with this lady who’s been _very_ respectfully waiting for you to finally get around to her, ‘Lina. So I say start there.”

Carolina is quiet but slowly nods in acceptance before ducking out of the conversation and moving toward the woman waiting instead. 

Which gives North the opportunity to round on York, just like York had been expecting him to do the second it was possible.

“This entire situation is ridiculous,” he says spitefully.

“Yeah,” York replies, noncommital.

“It’s unfair for this to be just thrown on us,” North continues, eyes darting toward Carolina every few words. “And she’s acting… she’s not acting rationally about any of it.”

“I know,” York replies with a huff. 

Already winding down almost in spite of himself, North lowers his head and rubs roughly at the back of his neck. His brows knit together grouchily and he lets out a tired sigh. But he’s done. 

“Are you still going home?” York asks. “You’ve got work tomorrow and, well, _obviously_ I don’t. So I can handle things here for both of these guys. Try to, y’know, get some straight answers when the shock wears off a bit.”

“Yeah, I’m going home,” North says in little more than a mumble. “But it’s not like I’m just… I’m going in early and talking to the secretary about what the school can help do. We don’t know how long he’s going to be staying with us but even if…” North’s eyes dart again and his voice lowers. “Even if the other brother makes it–”

“Jesus, North,” York says uncomfortably.

“–from everything I’ve heard so far it sounds like it’s going to be quite the hospital stay. So we’re looking at taking him in for a while,” North finishes. He hesitates and pulls at his collar. “What’s his name again?” 

“Theo,” York answers. “He’s eleven. I don’t really _have_ an eleven-year-old talking voice, I discovered.”

North squints at him. “What? Did you talk to him like he was a chihuahua? Kids _hate_ that.”

“Ex _cuse_ me, I haven’t talked to an eleven-year-old since I was one,” York snorts. 

North’s eyes roll and he gives a sigh. “Well, I’m sure I’ll get to know him soon enough. Right now, I need to go home and prepare some things.”

“Yeah, okay,” York relents. “I’ll text you. Keep you updated on stuff… If you want me to. I guess that’ll defeat the purpose of leaving to get some sleep, huh?” 

Nodding slightly, North forces a smile. “I’ll appreciate the updates. And if… Well, if it’s before I need to leave in the morning that you guys need a ride home. Just… Call. I’ll come.”

Seeing in the way North is holding his shoulders that the man is more than ready to leave, York surges forward and forces a hug. There’s an appreciable sigh of relief before North starts patting York’s back.

They part and York watches for a bit as North goes to interrupt Carolina and the social worker to give her a goodbye as well. 

It’s a small sentiment, but it’s enough to calm some of York’s in regards to whether or not that is a bridge that can be repaired down the road. 

Seems like there’s a chance, at least for now. 

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling the slight frizz and coarseness from a long day as he does so. Then York turns to return to the waiting area with Theo. 

Since they left, Theo has fallen asleep, face smothered against the uncomfortable armrest of the waiting room chair and one leg drawn up to dangle over the opposite armrest. 

It’s almost comical, but it manages to still tear at York’s heart in ways he isn’t expecting. 

Not wanting to disturb the kid, he goes to the other side of the waiting area and takes a chair opposite Theo. HIs eye darts around the room, checks his surroundings, and then he eases back against the seat. 

He has a feeling it’s going to be a while. 

* * *

York doesn’t know when he fell asleep, but the moment he wakes he can see Theo staring right at him. 

It’s creepy enough to make the grown man jump slightly in his seat before straightening up and trying to make sense of why he’s getting such a funny look from an eleven-year-old. 

“Uh, hey,” York stammers out into what becomes an inescapable yawn. “Man, when’d I go out?”

“I dunno,” Theo replies candidly. But his staring doesn’t end as York stretches and forces himself to wake up more. 

Forced to take in his surroundings a bit more, York realizes that it’s only he and Theo still. Regardless of how much time has passed, York can’t help but feel that Carolina should be with them. And no doubt this is how Theo’s feeling about now, too.

“So, uh,” York begins to break the silence once more. “I don’t know where your sister is, but she’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

He isn’t sure, and his touted knowledge of just who Carolina is at heart isn’t helping that feeling much. She _is_ being rather flakey.

“Okay,” Theo says, not sounding overly torn up. “Did that guy tell you about Ellison?”

Thinking back, York can’t quite assert what _guy_ they’re talking about until he remembers that Theo had been watching their conversation with North before they dozed off. North who hasn’t introduced himself yet. 

“Oh, no, he’s not from the hospital,” York explains. He waits a beat for Theo’s confused expression to change before deciding to give more details. “That was North. He lives with us – your sister and me. And he works at the school.”

Theo sinks in his chair. “ _Another_ school? Am I moving again?”

Realizing he’s probably overstepped his bounds, York runs a hand through his hair. “I… Dammit.” _Then,_ realizing he’s cussing in front of a child, York smacks a hand over his face. “What I _mean_ is, I don’t know anything about that stuff. I’m just saying he’s a teacher at the school, y’know, _here._ In this town. That’s all.”

What little understanding had been passing between them dissolves right before York’s eye and Theo pulls his feet into the chair, burying his face into his knees with a loud heaving of air. 

Alarmed, York looks around the waiting room for someone – _anyone_ – to step up and help this kid. But there’s no one there.

Sucking in a deep breath of air, York crosses the space between himself and Theo quickly, sinking into the chair beside him. 

Nervously, York reaches out to brush the kid’s shoulder, but he thinks better of it and instead rests his hands in his lap. He worries his lip and tries to think of any way he could alleviate the kid’s problems only to realize that he’s not even sure what those problems _are._

"Hey,” he speaks up finally. “Theo, what’s wrong?”

There’s a frustrated noise from behind Theo’s knees and he hugs them tighter. “I don’t know what’s going on. And everyone dies. And I don’t want to move schools. And I don’t like that lady, that lady’s why I’m here.”

York rubs his jeans nervously. “That’s… That’s a whole lot buddy. And I’ll be straight with you, I don’t know what’s going on that much either. I don’t think a lot of us do.” He leans in slightly. “But… I don’t know much about what’s up with you all and Carolina, but I promise you that she’s not the reason you’re here right now.”

“Caroline,” Theo huffs, looking up with a snotty face and red eyes. 

“Huh?” York asks in a completely dignified tone.

“Caroline,” he sniffs, brushing his face roughly with his sleeve. “Why do you keep calling her _Carolina?_ A why’s your name York?”

“Oh,” York says, pulling at his ear. “Those are the names we had when we were all serving together. Our whole troupe had names. I gave North and his sister theirs because, heh, they were twins and their last name is _Dakota_  – like the state. So I started calling them North and South. And your sister’s name is _close_ to a state name so I started calling her Carolina. It caught on.”

Theo pulls more out of the ball he’s formed in the waiting room chair and tilts his head to the side as he looks over York. “Is your name not really _York_ then?” 

“As far as I care it is now,” York says with a small smile and a shrug. 

“Even though it rhymes with _dork?”_ Theo snickers slightly.

“Ah, now _that’s_ the middle school I remember,” York teases as he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “Honestly you’re about the hundredth person to point that out, thanks. First was Dee. He’s a lot like you, actually. Too smart for his own good. Always worried.”

Raising a brow, Theo turns more in his seat towards York. “Dee? So… like… _Deleware?”_

“Huh? Oh!” York laughs. “No, the state names only went so far. And I’d given Dee his nickname in basic. _Delta_ – the poindexter. He would always correct me on the phonetic alphabet, and I’d always get it wrong just to get on his nerves. He _knew_ that’s why I did it, too, but it didn’t stop him.”

There’s interest brightly showing on Theo’s face, which might be the only time so far that York has seen the kid anything short of devastated. It also makes him realize that even if Theo’s looked strikingly young to him thus far, before now the kid had looked _years_ past his age, brow wrinkles and a studied frown. 

This looks like a real kid for a moment. 

“So you’re all from the military?” he asks carefully. “Caroline’s been away for a long time with it.”

“I guess for you guys it’s felt like forever,” York acknowledges. 

The kid shrugs and kicks out his legs to dangle them over the seat again. “I guess.”

York is more than ready to leave the kid alone at this point, watching him regress into the practiced solemn stares, but there’s still something bothering him a _lot_ about what Theo has said. 

"Hey, Theo?” York asks, making the kid look back at him. “What lady were you talking about being the reason you’re here?”

A small scowl shows on Theo’s face before crumbling, he looks to his kicking feet. “The lady you talked to. She’s around all the time. And she talked to Ellison before the wreck. She _always_ makes him so upset. I wish she’d just go away and leave us alone.”

York contemplates the strange statement for a moment before his eyes widen and he slowly sits back. Realization is dawning on him so profoundly he doesn’t even hear Carolina walking over to them before she clears her throat.

“Theo,” Carolina says as gently as she could feasibly manage. “Ellison’s in a room right now. He’s got a lot of machines hooked up to him and he won’t be awake for a long time, but I can let you go see him for a few minutes if you promise to not get in the way of the doctors and nurses.”

It’s such a practiced speech York can just _tell_ she’s delivered it impersonally to families before. She’s not asking as a sister, and Theo accepts it as if he’s never seen Carolina before in his life. 

But York’s still processing _Theo’s_ statements, still feeling winded from _that_ revelation. 

“Okay,” Theo says, getting to his feet. He pauses and looks back to York. “Are you gonna stay down here?”

York tries to get his mouth to open and let him respond, but he feels like all of his gears have ground to a halt. He looks helplessly to Carolina instead. 

“He’ll be here,” she says, not interpreting York’s bafflement at all. Instead she just says, “We’ll be right back, York.” 

Carolina and Theo start to walk together and York gets to his feet but doesn’t follow. 

He might be thinking too hard about it – and he really _hopes_ he is – but York thinks Theo just told him that he thinks this accident is no accident on his brother’s part. 


	6. Mister Calm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m always just blown away with the support and just amazing insight you guys give me for this story. I can’t express how grateful I am for everyone following this story since it’s a pretty emotional write on my end. I can’t thank you all enough, because it’s tough putting these guys through such an emotional wringer. 
> 
> Special thanks to the support of @analiarvb, @washingtonstub, @freshzombiewriter, @secretlystephaniebrown, @notatroll7, staininspace, supersoda, Yin, @ephemeraltea, and @fasterthxnyou from AO3 and tumblr!

North doesn’t sleep the entire night so much as he wastes some time staring at the ceiling over his own bed. His eyes feel no heavier than normal, but the questions and sting of belittlement and betrayal weigh on his mind. 

Really, he has never been the best sleeper since returning, but there is something bizarrely alienating in knowing that York isn’t going to come into his room in the middle of the night, or that he can’t hear Carolina down the hall. That they are at the hospital waiting on news over someone North didn’t even know existed just half a day before. 

It is a relief when he gets up before his alarm and heads to work early for that chat with his secretary friends. 

They are intrigued by the fact that Carolina has family, that there is a minor about to come join in the unusual living arrangements, but North doesn’t give them much more to feed on than that. 

When he makes it clear he is looking to them for advice on the unusual circumstances, they kindly respond by giving him plenty of paperwork to pass on to Carolina for filing for tuition and enrollment, then give North a barely relevant handbook on such cases that is bent, yellowed, and covered in dust. 

He files the things all away before the first bell had rang then makes his way to the classroom. 

His head is still weighed down with scenarios and worry and the constant, nagging notion that this huge risk they all bought into – this fantasy of living together, of working as some sort of unit and family together, of _loving_ each other – is not perfectly accepted by every party. 

That Carolina is holding back because it is not truly a dream she had bought in on. 

And that notion is enough to make him sick even as he stands at the front of the class, forcing a tired smile like nothing is wrong, and greet all of his temporary students. 

“Good morning, class,” he says instead of putting his fist through the teacher’s table.

“Good morning, Mister Dakota,” he gets from half of them with even less enthusiasm than the day before. 

He reaches for his lesson plan and tries not to imagine tearing it in half.

* * *

The day drags to a painstakingly long degree and, despite that, North has a hard time placing the events of the day in order as he drives blearily home.

Sleep depravation rarely catches up with him and his unusual schedule, something he had all but trained himself into during years of battle, but his mental exhaustion is calling in collect.

Nagging depreciation of his importance to the household they kept, his anger over the nonchalance Carolina seemed to bring into the events she had unfairly placed them in – it boils uncomfortably within him until he can barely think straight pulling into the driveway. 

North pauses at the door and laid his forehead flatly against the woodgrain for a moment and catches his breath. 

It is still easier to look at the world the way he had behind the scope of a gun. Even breaths, an attentiveness to his own sense of self so that he could sense the movement of even a single bead of sweat, a concentration on a target that was before him. A target whose evaluation depended almost entirely on his distant judgment. 

Nothing is a hairpin trigger other than the trigger itself and, once pulled, its finality and completion felt unlike anything in his real life.

 _Current_ life.

North swallows hard and then continues into the house only to be met by a sense of _difference._

When he looks at the coatrack and sees York’s jacket there is an initial sense of relief. But as he double checks the finding and sees that there were shoes to match the jacket’s reappearance, North doesn’t see Carolina’s but an unknown pair instead. 

A pair that are a child’s size, nearly half the size of his own.

Looking around the house as he sets his bag down and removed his own shoes, North can hear footsteps and faint, muffled talking through the ceiling. 

So they are upstairs. 

North feels a strange sense of invasiveness as he climbs his own stairs and begins to hear the voices more clearly. It is _certainly_ York, and it is _certainly_ someone young – Theo, then, Carolina’s surprise younger brother. 

And they are in York’s room. 

“Walls are kind of bare,” York notes loudly. “Guess I never really noticed before. Weird.”

There’s a lot of noise, moving things around, boxes being dropped against the carpet. North considers stopping at his end of the hall because, knowing York, there’s a disaster unfolding that North will end up having to pick up after, but he presses forward all the same. 

Might as well as deal with disaster upfront. He can maybe minimize the destructive force that is his boyfriend. 

“Why? Because the house is new?” the younger voice asks curiously over the racket. 

“Nah, I just don’t spend a lot of time in here,” York replies candidly. 

There’s a small pause and then a slight huff of a laugh. “You guys are _so_ weird,” Theo remarks. Closer to hitting the nail on the head than the kid could ever feasibly realize. 

North makes it to the door and leans in against the doorframe a bit to get a look at the room. 

What little personal affects York had managed to keep in his own room were piled toward the middle, the bed stripped, and a duffle bag with some sort of cartoon North’s not familiar with on it dropped closer to North at the entrance. 

York is busying himself in the small closet, throwing more clothes toward the middle of the room. Theo is siting on the desk chair that York has never managed to utilize for more than throwing clothes on and kicking his feet out as he watches the adult man wreck his room more. 

Theo notices North first, which shouldn’t be as surprising to the man as it is, and the kid grows an uncomfortable hunch in his posture. Like he’s still trying to fold into himself for protection. 

“Uh, York?” the kid says, glancing nervously toward the distracted former furniture salesman. 

“What?” York asks before getting a look himself and growing a broad grin. “Oh, hey! You’re back early.”

“Late, actually,” North corrects mildly, stepping more into the doorway and glancing around. “I’m confused. Is someone moving _in_ or are you just moving _out?”_ He forces a smile toward Theo, causing the kid to rise a bit on his own with more confidence. “I’m sure we’ll be celebrating either way.”

The joke manages to get a bit of baffled laughter out of Theo who looks to York. 

For his part, York stands up and rolls his eye. “Oh, very funny. Like you’d know what to do without me.”

North can’t help but to let his smile melt a bit into something softer and more sincere at the comment. Even with his hands on his hips and his most disapproving look available to him, he ends up just shaking his head. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

As York continues to fail to introduce them, North walks over to the chair where Theo is sitting and watches the kid lean back away from him a bit more. Without being too brash, he offers a solid hand out to Theo. 

“Hi, Theo, we didn’t get to talk last night,” North says apologetically. “I’m North. I live here with York and your sister. I _also_ work at the nearby school, which is why I’ve not been around all day.”

“Oh,” Theo says, taking the offered hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” North replies warmly. 

Theo’s smile grows a bit more sincere as he takes control of the handshake, sliding more forward into his seat. “And it’s okay about you being gone and stuff. We just got here a while ago.” 

A bit surprised, North relinquishes Theo’s hand once the shake stops and leans back. “You just got back from the hospital? I bet you’re probably exhausted – it’s been almost a full day since all this started.”

It’s then that North takes full note of the rings around Theo’s eyes and the tired wrinkles in his brow as the kid nods. 

Growing annoyed rather quickly, North turns and looks at York. “Seriously, what are you even doing in here?”

York bothers to look surprised that the conversation has turned back on him. “Theo’s going to stay in my room while he’s with us,” he says, as if it answers anything at all.

“So you stripped the sheets and take over the room with your clutter? Really?” North stresses before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Goddammit, York.”

There’s a very suggestive way that York begins moving his eyebrows. “I didn’t realize we’d have anyone coming over, North, and I didn’t realize that I’d need to… clean the sheets and stuff. Can’t have a guest on… _dirty_ sheets.”

For a moment, North remains happily oblivious to the intent to York’s words, but it unfortunately catches up with him and he throws his full body into his eye roll. “Oh, for the love of… _Forget it_ , this kid needs sleep.” North turns and faces Theo directly. “Theo, do you mind sleeping in my bed? Just to rest up a bit? I hate for you to fall over asleep standing on your feet in the next minute or two.”

Another small but true laugh comes from Theo. “Okay,” he says. “Where’s your bed at?”

North nods back down the hall. “First one by the stairs. Can’t miss it. It’s the only one that doesn’t belong to an adult disaster in this house.”

That earns more laughter as Theo jumps down to his feet and starts toward the hall. He pauses just long enough to wave back at York. “Thanks,” he says politely before continuing on his way.

North watches Theo walk down the hall for a moment before feeling York come up alongside him. Then he turns his full attention to his partner.

“Seriously, what the hell are you doing?” North asks, waving toward the utter destruction of the room.

“Huh?” York asks before taking a good look at his own room like he hasn’t seen it for himself. “Oh, right. Well it looks like, at the _least,_ Theo’s going to be staying with us for a few months. His brother’s pretty bad off. So I figured he’d need his own space, and it’s like you and Carolina like to say all the time, I’m hardly using this room so–”

“That requires you to empty your entire closet out just this second?” North asks, rubbing at his face. “Come on, York, you are full of common sense. What’s been up with you lately?”

“I don’t know, _you two_ are the ones who are constantly psychoanalyzing me, you tell _me,”_ York fires back hastily. 

Caught a bit off guard, North glances back to York and sees a rather angry glint to the man’s eye. And beyond that, North can see the same tired rings and telltale exhaustion North had just seen on Carolina’s brother. 

“Sorry,” North says quickly and quietly. “I know you’re just trying to help.”

“Yeah, I _am,”_ York says, the annoyance steadily draining from his tone with each word. Then, sincerely and silently, “Thanks for noticing.”

Taking a breath, North crosses his arms. “Where’s Carolina?” 

“She went back to the hospital after coming here with us in the Uber,” York replies. “I never went in with her to check on her brother but… I don’t know. I think he’ll live but they think things are still pretty hairy. It’s tough to say.”

North claps a hand on York’s shoulder. “Thank you for going so out of the way and being there in this… _really_ weird and _really_ unexpected situation, York. For everyone, I mean.”

Pressing into the touch, York lets out a low huff. “Yeah, well, it’s not like I’ve got much going on right now anyway.”

Frowning at the statement, North squeezes York’s shoulder. “You’re exhausted, too,” North points out. “How about you head over to Carolina’s room and take a nap yourself. I’ll head over to the hospital.”

Blinking a few times, York glances up at North and cocks his head to the side. “Why?”

“It’s my turn to be there,” North replies easily. “Also so you can rest comfortably knowing that no one’s going to emotionally regress without your constant presence.”

“Oh, please,” York snorts. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

North smiles fondly and begins lightly shoving York toward Carolina’s bedroom. “Seriously, get some sleep. I don’t want to scrape you off the stairs in a bit after your body all but collapses.”

“Okay, okay,” York sighs, going with the flow. “And, North, thanks for being so calm, dude. Seriously. With everyone else being, y’know, _us_ and _emotional_ and all that, we need Mister Stiff Upper Lip like you.”

“I’m honored,” North lies through his teeth. “Now _go.”_

Like with Theo before, North watches until York makes it to his destination. Then North carries himself on autopilot down the stairs, to the door, getting his shoes and his bag, and heading toward the car. 

He tries to ignore that _calm_ is anything _but_ the emotion he is feeling toward their girlfriend. 

* * *

He isn’t sure _what_ he expected when he got to the hospital. Maybe to have the nurse give him a room number in ICU where he could find both his partner and her brother. It isn’t an _impossibility_ that Carolina has decided to start taking the news of her brother’s near demise like a human being since they first got the police at their door the night before. 

At least, North doesn’t think it is until he’s directed, instead, to the office a few doors down from the diagnostics lab that Carolina calls her secondary home. 

It takes just one knock on the door before Carolina’s voice says very clearly, “Enter.”

And though his blood is _boiling,_ and though he can’t wrap his brain around what is happening, North does as suggested and stands awkwardly in yet another doorway on the other side of the room from where one of his partners is.

Carolina finishes writing something down on the various stacks of papers around her desk before she so much as glances up at North. And then, like York, she bothers to act surprised somehow. 

North has never felt like more of a non-presence in this arrangement. 

“North,” she finally says, putting her pen down enough that she can straighten in her chair and look at him directly. “I didn’t expect you to come down here.”

He stands stiffly in the door and glances around the office before refocusing on Carolina. “Yes, well, I can’t say that when I came to check on you, with your brother in the _hospital_ and all, that I expected to find you in here of all places.” 

She looks at him in complete confusion for a moment before bringing her pen up and tapping it against her chin. “You think I should be in my brother’s room for another four or five hours?” she asks skeptically.

“Are you able to do your job knowing he’s _in_ a room here just a few floors from your office?” North asks critically. “Because that’s difficult for me to imagine.”

“I prefer productivity over inactivity,” Carolina snaps back. “Are you just here to attack me?”

"I came here to support you,” North fires back. “Now I’m not so sure what I’m supporting. If that was my sister in the hospital, after nearly losing her, they couldn’t _tear me away_ from her bedside!”

Carolina stares at North angrily. “I don’t think you’re here to support me, North. I think you came in here with the same attitude I saw last night, and honestly I’m too tired to deal with it.”

North grits his teeth, but he can’t say she’s wrong, not really. His fuse with the situation has been firing on the wick since before he even went home last night. 

But he can’t understand how she doesn’t see that _she’s_ the problem here. 

“I just need to know why you’re acting like nothing is wrong!” he demands. “I need to know _why_ you don’t care–”

“Of course I care!” she snaps. “You think I don’t care? This is _my_ family! Not yours. _Mine._ There’s no reason for _you_ to be upset! Not over _my_ people! You don’t get to get upset with me over _my_ people!” 

“Because _your_ people are supposed to be _our_ people!” North yells before he can catch himself. “This is supposed to be _our_ family! I moved away from everyone I knew, from every bit of promise and prospect I had because I believed I could have a family with you and with York – because I thought that I couldn’t understand how people _work_ anymore. That the only people I could understand were the people I love here because I loved them over there! And you’re expecting me to take finding out that I don’t know you at _all_ in stride?”

Slamming her palms down on the table, Carolina rises to her feet and leers directly back at North. “I didn’t make that promise to you!” she roars. “ _York_ did! Don’t hold me beholden to _his_ ridiculous promises! Of _course_ you don’t understand me! I _hardly_ understand _you!”_ She points angrily to his sticker covered satchel. “How can you pick up where you left off before training and war and losing so many people we called brothers and sisters in arms? How can you still pretend you care about whether or not snot nosed kids learn their spelling words for the week when I look in your eyes every night and see a thousand yard stare, North? _How_ can you just go back to school and pick up where you left off? _What kind of person can do that?”_

They lapse into silence, staring at one another with utter disgust before simultaneously breaking the lock of their eyes. North stares a good few seconds at his shoes, feeling more winded than he has in years.

Carolina lets out a low laugh, sinking back into her chair and covering her face with her hands. 

“We’re so fucked up,” she mutters just loud enough for North to hear. 

“Yeah,” he agrees breathlessly.

“I left and joined the military because I didn’t want to be who I was before it ever again,” she informs him, finally looking up, her eyes reddened but more determined than ever. “It makes no sense to me that you can act like you aren’t different.”

He wants to say it’s just that – an _act._ But it’s not. He wants to believe it’s real. That there isn’t a disappointment in the room when he goes home and knows his parents and sister see a hollow version of himself that they can’t recognize. 

But he can’t.

“You need to clue us into what’s going on here,” North says instead. “The whole situation.”

“Okay,” Carolina says with a blink – flat and accepting. “You need to leave my office so I can get back to work.”

“Okay,” North says. And he turns and leaves, ignoring that he never gave her the enrollment papers.

* * *

Somehow, North makes it to the driveway on autopilot before completely going into park and sitting back against his seat. His eyes drift warily over the darkened streets, checks his own house for lights or signs of activity, before he lets loose. 

His fist rams into the steering wheel without holding back. Then _again._ And _again._

There are so many hits that he clenches his jaw down to just feel like they aren’t jarring him to the bone up and down his arm and shoulder. He hits _again._ And the steering wheel dents and bends, which makes his target alter even if the image doesn’t register with his brain just yet. 

He strikes where the outer wheel isn’t anymore, missing and hitting the horn instead. 

The blaring noise sounds so loudly and shockingly to North that he jumps back a bit against his seat and is left – breathing unevenly, eyes blown wide.

There’s strips of fabric hanging off his wheel and the imprints where it’s bent are reddened and scuffed. 

North gulps down a breath, remembers to steady his breathing, and then looks down to his bloodied knuckles. His hand is completely torn to pieces from the fit – a very, _very_ stupid price to pay. 

And the anger isn’t even gone yet. It’s still there, twisting and turning and joining the new chorus in the back of his mind where he’s told with some confidence that he doesn’t belong in this new world, this new family that’s etched out a spot supposedly reserved for him. 

Eyes darting around the street and back to the dark house, North makes sure that his outburst is unseen and – _mostly_ – unheard. 

Then he gets out of the car, clutching his throbbing hand tenderly against his chest before heading inside. 

His shoes are kicked off easily and his bag drops to his side with a simple shrug. North pads his way across the floor and toward the kitchen as quickly as he can so his knuckles don’t drip over the carpet. 

North shoves his hand under the sink and flips the handle to cold. He hisses at the water as it runs over the wounds and already steady swelling. 

If he was more reasonable, he might be asking what he was _thinking_  but North is familiar enough with his _unreasonableness_ to know that he wasn’t thinking at all.

He stands for a moment, water running over his knuckles, and throws back his head with a long, disappointed sigh at himself. 

Just as his self-admonishment is starting, however, a creak of the floorboards behind him gets North’s attention and he swiftly turns on his heels to face the source of the sound. 

Theo stands awkwardly by the kitchen’s doorframe, shifting his weight between his feet. 

“Hey,” North manages to get out. “I mean… No. Yeah. Hey works.”

There is silence that carries a beat too long before Theo’s eyes drift from North’s face to his hand, then back to North’s face. 

Though North has long since learned to not care much for the opinions of middle schoolers, he has the odd sensation of being judged just that minute as Theo crosses the kitchen silently and heads toward the freezer. 

Some relief escaping with his sigh, North nods. “Yeah, there’s… I’m sure there’s food. Or… popsicles or something in there. York eats like a toddler so feel free to take any of his food if… yeah,” North blabbers a bit, so relieved to no longer have Theo’s gaze on him. 

He’s then perplexed when he sees Theo pull out a bag of peas he wasn’t even aware they owned. 

“Or vegetables, that too,” North says. “I mean, that’s obviously healthier, too, so, I’m glad I don’t have to give you the nutrition talk I give York and…” he swallows down an emotion he can’t quite name before continuing, “and your sister.”

Theo gives him a look before shoving the bag of peas over North’s hand. 

North blinks back for a moment before glancing to the bag. “Ow,” he verbalizes instead. 

“Did you punch something?” Theo asks.

“No,” North answers before he can even think to process what Theo is asking. 

“Because when my brothers punched walls and stuff, they’d do that to their hands. You’re gonna have to wrap it up and stuff tomorrow. Because’s it’ll hurt a lot,” Theo snickers. “It’s so dumb. Why would you punch something that’ll just hurt you when you’re angry?”

Impressed by Theo’s lack of humoring him, North hums some in thought. “I’m going to take this as you’ve never _really_ been angry before.”

“Oh, sure, I’m real angry,” Theo replies, walking around the kitchen and stopping by the box littered living room. He looks back to North critically. “ _Especially_ with this house. You guys have chairs _everywhere_ but where you eat. I’ve never seen a kitchen without seats.”

“Or a table,” North sighs loftily. He presses his good hand on top of the frozen peas to add to the pressure on his knuckles. Realizing how useful the bag is, North nods to Theo. “And, ah, _thanks._ For the peas.”

Theo smiles and shrugs back. “You kinda remind me of Alphonse.”

North thinks for a moment. “Alphonse?”

“He was my older brother,” Theo says, a flicker of remorse crossing his face before he continues. “He died a long time ago. But he was so funny – Ellison’s like him some, but Alphonse was _really_ sarcastic. Like all the time. More than anyone else. And he used to get angry and kick things. He broke his toe once. Ellison and I used to put ice in his boot to prank him.” He laughs, but only for a short breath or two. “It was so mean.”

Feeling rather awkward with the new information, North presses his hand against the frozen peas more. “You think I’m sarcastic?”

"I hope so,” Theo laughs. “Or you just say everything _really_ dry.”

“Hm,” North hums, bemused. “It might be a little of both.” 

The silence overtakes them again and Theo’s gaze shifts around the room more than a few times, as if he’s looking just as desperately for an escape as North is. 

“I’m sorry about your brothers,” North finally says. “I have a sister. I can’t even begin to imagine losing her or her being hurt…”

“It’s okay,” Theo replies, still not looking directly at North. “Hey, can I turn the lights on? It’s real dark in here.”

“Of course,” North says, watching the kid do just that. “I didn’t know about Alphonse. Carolina isn’t… she’s not very open about those sorts of things.”

Theo looks back at him. “I don’t know much about her,” he explains. “We’ve not met much.”

North holds Theo’s gaze and nods slightly. “Yeah,” he says. “I don’t know much about her either.” He takes a breath and looks toward his bag at the door. “Or you. Which reminds me, I have some homework from school that you might be able to help me with.”

“Teachers get homework?” Theo scoffs, though interest is sparked in his eyes. 

“Sort of,” North explains. “It’s about you. I’ve got to get these papers into the school so that you can be enrolled with us and not have to wake up at four in the morning to get to your old school while you’re staying here. But I need someone who knows more about you and your family to help me fill out some of the forms. Think you’re up for it?”

“Yeah… I _guess_ so,” Theo sighs. “I _just_ moved schools.”

“At least it’ll be a little easier this time around,” North says, pointing his good thumb at his chest. “You’ve got someone on the inside this time around.”

Theo’s nose crinkles with his grin. “Don’t be lame.”

“No promises,” North says back. 


	7. The Great Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a while and I apologize for that! But for those who don’t know, I actually started classes back last week so even though we’re close to the end – so close! it’s exciting! – there may be a jumble in the updates from here on out. I apologize for the inconvenience there, but so is life. I hope you all are able to enjoy the story all the same!
> 
> Special thanks to the support of @analiarvb, @secretlystephaniebrown, @freshzombiewriter, @washingtonstub, @ephemeraltea, @notatroll7, and Yin from AO3 and tumblr!

Her eyes shoot open and it takes Carolina several minutes to realize that the ceiling is _familiar_ but simply not the ceiling she expects to wake up to.

Sensation returns to her quickly after that. It doesn’t take too much to realize that her right leg is dangling off the side and sticking out from the blanket she is using for covers. Only the slightest movement plants her foot firmly on the carpet. Her arms are over her head and the harder than normal pillows behind them really _aren’t_ for sleeping. 

Mostly because the couch itself isn’t really for sleeping. At least not in the current arrangement. 

Carolina takes a moment to gather her thoughts, to remember blearily coming in the door in the early hours of the morning, to a house that’s both too quiet and too loud with snores she’s frightfully unfamiliar with. To a room that’s too full with people stewing and angry at her. And to a laundry machine that is running at a godawful hour. 

And as soon as she remembers why she is on the couch, she regrets it. 

Really, she _should_ have kicked North out of her room after his stunt at her office the day before. And maybe York just for good measure, considering the flighty and awkward looks he gave her the entire time she and Theo were visiting with their comatose brother. 

 _Should_ but _didn’t._

On her feet, Carolina picks up the bra and heels from the floor beside her, buttons up her collared shirt again, and ignores the terrible wrinkles in her best pair of slacks before picking them back off the floor and putting them on. 

Basically operating on autopilot, she reaches back for the blanket and folds it neatly before putting it away in the chest that has been serving as the coffee table for far too long. Then she rearranges the throw pillows to a somewhat less disheveled arrangement. 

Then, with her unworn garments folded over her forearm and her heels in hand, Carolina heads toward the stairs to exchange her clothes for the pair she needs to really start a new day.

There’s a certain foreignness to her routine. It’s jarring to see her room and closet and clothes from an unfamiliar angle in the morning. She’s taken aback for a moment by it all, especially the sight of her occupied bed and North’s neatly pressed clothes hanging at the door. 

A vindictive thought crosses her mind momentarily, of taking those clothes and moving them somewhere unexpected like hanging inside the shower or down on the coat rack on the first floor. A prank that would have been too mild to be acceptable in military bunks – the three of them have survived much worse.

But Carolina manages to quickly vanquish the thought and move on with her day. 

She puts away the clothes from the previous day, quickly grabs the first available outfit in her closet to start her new day, moves to the bathroom without stirring either one of  her partners, and doing the bare minimums the morning requires.

No thick globs of makeup, no hours long hair treatment – just the touch of mascara and her usual ponytail. 

In the back of her mind, Carolina knows that the dressed down, high casual look compared to her usual business acceptable appearance will be noticed by the hospital staff. And she knows that it’s acceptable because the rumor mill no doubt has spread that her brother is now a patient and her personal business, so carefully guarded from every last staff member close and far to her, is now laid bare for the masses. 

It will be thought she’s upset and mourning and possibly more. And she hates that – she hates that show of weakness more than she hated getting the news of Ellison’s accident. 

And, just a little bit, she hates herself for that.

With a deep breath, Carolina picks up from her momentary pause of thought then heads back down the stairs, alone still in a quiet house. 

Hopefully by the time she decides to come home that night, things will have worked themselves out with North and York and her. She won’t have to address whatever it is that is bothering the two so immensely about her personal life – just the way she likes for things to resolve.

Her mind is already moving on to toast and eggs and wondering what ingredients they might have in the fridge – hot sauce, she prays – which leaves her open for the big surprise of hearing sizzling and smelling cooking food wafting through the hallway’s air. 

At first, stopping just outside the kitchen, Carolina’s mind races, double checking with herself that she _did_ really see North and York in bed. She doesn’t even begin to suspect anyone else would be in the house cooking.

But the obvious answer hits her as she meets Theo’s eyes. 

Her half-brother is standing on one of the boxes from the living room that remains to be unpacked. Theo has one hand on the handle of the skillet and the other holding up the spatula in the other. 

The eggs in the skillet interrupt their silence.

“Hey,” Carolina forces out like it hurts.

“Morning,” Theo replies, the sort of wakefulness that escapes Carolina clear in his voice. She almost envies it.

After the awkwardness carries on for another few seconds, Theo mercifully looks away from her and begins fiddling with the eggs in the skillet again.

Carolina releases a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and moves directly toward the kitchen sink. It’s too early to deal with any of this without her coffee.

Despite herself, Carolina feels her heart racing in her chest as she gets the coffee grounds and a filter from the cabinet. 

A voice in the back of her head, that sounds _suspiciously_ North-like, is trying to force her to face Theo. Trying to force her to have conversation with the middle schooler who she hasn’t spoken to since he was seven. And she can’t find the logic in that so she tries to quell it through concentrating on her coffeemaker. 

The sounds of scraping and sizzling changes rather suddenly, drawing Carolina to look back and see that Theo is pouring the entire skillet of eggs onto a single plate he has next to the oven top. 

She’s never been hungrier for eggs than the moment she realized Theo had no intention of sharing. 

Which _may_ have meant she has spent too much time around York.

“You’re up early,” she breaks the ice with instead. 

While Carolina mentally kicks herself for the feeble attempt at small talk, Theo raises a brow at her and reaches to turn off the stove. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “North says he’s going to take me to work with him today so I can talk to the school people about… whatever.”

There is a touch of confusion as Carolina attempts to process the news, but she tries to not show it. Instead she nods in acceptance and leans back against the counter as her coffeemaker earns its keep.

“It could be boring spending the whole day at school without classes,” she notes. 

Theo shrugs, biting into a fork full of eggs. “It’s boring _with_ classes.”

A smirk quirks on Carolina’s lips as the water boils behind her. “Touche,” she replies. 

“I’m not going to be there all day, I don’t think,” Theo continues. “York’s going to pick me up.”

Even _more_ confused by that statement, Carolina tilts her head. “In _what?_ He doesn’t drive?”

Looking scandalized himself, Theo tilts his head back in the same fashion. “He _doesn’t?_ That’s weird,” he says. “I dunno. He just made me promise not to tell North. Says we’ll be playing hooky.” 

Squinting, Carolina reaches back for a mug from the drying rack on the sink. “Do people still say _playing hooky_?”

“No, we just skip,” Theo replies. “I didn’t want to break it to him.”

“Yeah, the last thing we need is for him to have a midlife crisis right now,” Carolina mutters. “You’re not enrolled yet technically so York and you can have fun walking around town or whatever it is he does during the days, just don’t take him as a role model or anything. Even _North_ would be a better role model.”

“Okay,” Theo says, a mischievous note to his words. “So is it _York_ or _North’s_ porn in this box?”

Carolina nearly drops the coffee pot and scrambles to catch the mug after it. As soon as both are securely in her hands, she turns on her heels and stares at the box in question, taking note for the first time that it was old, ragged, and tearing at the corners enough to how the distressed magazine pages inside. 

“I’m going to kill them,” she says, as if she wasn’t the one that thought leaving the box of their collective magazines from the military bunkers wasn’t the heights of hilarity a few weeks ago. 

Actually laughing, Theo drops down and sits on the box, putting the plate on his knees. “You guys need tables. And chairs.”

“We’re aware,” she says flatly. “Theo… don’t sit on that, come on.”

The boy eyes her for a moment before reluctantly getting back to his feet. His shoulders draw up subtly and he stands awkwardly with his plate in hand, finishing the eggs left. 

Carolina looks at him in confusion, wondering what has turned him so skittish. Her brain quickly trace over the conversation when she hesitates, remembering her own tone. 

There is something uncomfortably familiar to it that she refuses to completely put a finger on.

Scratching at her jawline, Carolina attempts to think of a way to mend the apparently broken bridge between them. If only for the sake of finishing her coffee in peace. 

“Have you and York talked about anything else?” she asks hopefully.

A flicker grows in Theo’s eyes as he looks back at Carolina. “He _really_ wants a dog. You guys already have a yard–”

She laughs around the edges of her coffee mug as she finally takes her first sip. “Mm, no. Tell him to shill you out for another request,” she replies. “Other than dogs, anything on your mind?”

The words come out before she can really think over them, just thrown out to the winds without care. But the hurt in Theo’s expression immediately lets her know just how much she’s messed up in that moment. Her heart stops and she deflates in front of him. 

“Just Ellison,” he says.

“Oh, Theo, I mean…” Carolina stops herself because she’s not even certain what she means.

“I’d like to go today,” Theo continues. “But… North says it’s good to do this other stuff first. Get me out some. But I don’t think I’ll forget any time today. So… I’d like to know how he’s doing since you’re going to be there with him.”

“With him…” Carolina parrots.

“You _are_ going today, right?” Theo asks, voice belying genuine concern for the answer.

“Yes,” she answers quickly. “Yes, I am.”

Theo puts away his plate, then Carolina finishes her coffee. 

She doesn’t bother with toast or anything else for breakfast.

* * *

Work is supposed to be the one place where Carolina’s world fully aligns – where the people around her know exactly as much about her as is necessary, where the only evaluations of her that mattered were from her output inside of four walls. 

Through painstaking effort, Carolina is certain that most of her coworkers knew only about her service to the country and not a thing more. And if they did know anything more – about living arrangements or family or _anything_ – it was not from her, it was not more than a whisper.

She didn’t get sympathetic looks from nurses. She didn’t have people offering to eat lunch with her.

Carolina misses the world of fifty-two hours ago so much she wants to scream. 

But more than missing when her coworkers ignored her existence, Carolina misses not having her attempts at working being constantly muddled by the egging concern in the back of her brain – the one that North or even York are thinking of her as some sort of monster. Or the one wondering just what the brother she barely knew is doing that day. 

By the third time she is asked if she wants someone to bring her lunch up to her, Carolina reaches for her phone and makes a call.

She waits anxiously for the phone to pick up, not even sure there’s going to be an answer when the phone picks up. 

“Carolina?”

“North,” she says flatly, voice devoid of the the genuine relief she feels having him answer her. 

“I’m supervising a playground,” he informs her, voice strained. “Is… everything alright?”

“I’m not a monster,” she tells him. “I just… siblings are difficult. And… there’s a lot that happened with my family. We’re not a normal family. I don’t know what I’m doing.” She pauses for a moment before continuing. “I mean that in more ways than one. I don’t know what I’m doing right now calling you either. I just. What you said yesterday–”

“Was out of line,” he interrupts. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she answers. Then she thinks and amends, “No? I could be better.”

Her chest is not as tight as it was before she called but Carolina kind of wants to scream and throw the phone across the room like a confused teenager who accidentally confessed something to their crush.

At least, that’s how Carolina imagines they are. She never had much of a chance to act out being a teenager herself.

“Yeah,” North breaks the silence without warning. “Siblings are hard.”

For a moment, Carolina feels relief from the squeeze of anxiety around her. Her mouth trembles, searching for words she doesn’t possess. Trying to formulate some semblance of a response.

She finds herself gracious that North doesn’t end there.

“I haven’t spoken to my sister – not really – not in months,” North reveals. “What we do… it’s not talking. I don’t even know where she is in the world. Just that she’s alive. And sometimes I hate myself because that feels like enough. And it shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t.” He pauses. “That’s why I get so angry, I think. Because I know what being a good brother looks like. I just don’t know if I can do it anymore.”

“Yeah,” Carolina says dryly.

“Because I changed,” he continues. “I changed, and you’re right, I try to act like I haven’t. All evidence to the contrary… But I have to try to make things normal. If I figure out what _normal_ is, maybe I’ll eventually get there.”

Not a single platitude or condolence Carolina has ever heard before strikes her as truthfully, as close to the skin and bones that make her, as North’s words now. 

She wipes away tears before she knows she has them.

“I have to get these kids back in class,” North continues. “But… we’ll talk, alright? Later?”

“Yes,” Carolina says. “Yes. And… North?” She bites her lip. “Thank you.”

“Sure,” he says softly then hangs up. 

Carolina remains at her desk for another hour, pretending to do work like she’s normal, too.

* * *

Despite, or perhaps even _because of,_ the hospital’s staff genuine sympathies toward her, Carolina’s work piles up onto her desk for hours and hours. She can lose herself in them, but not entirely.

Not when each time someone stops by her door she looks up anxiously, expecting something other than condolences. Not when she’s calculating the budget for the lab’s supplies next month and she wonders how much printer toner is being used on Ellison’s charts.

Rather suddenly, there is more to Carolina’s life than the four walls around her and she feels like her person is bloated and exposed for all to see. 

She’s purposefully not allowed herself to be seen as so vulnerable for _years._ Maybe _ever._

Finally, long after she has stopped being productive, Carolina leaves her office and without any fanfare leaves the lab to its own devices. 

A few of the more necessary files are kept close to her chest as she enters her brother’s room. 

The ICU is either rarely not as cluttered as usual or Ellison’s last name has gotten him some semblance of special treatment. She hopes because of _her_ relation rather than anything else that unfortunately comes with the Church name. 

Still, it’s relieving to be able to sit at the empty chair by her brother’s side without another family around or the hum of someone else’s vitals cluttering the backgrounds. 

It’s just Carolina and her brother. 

Her brother she hasn’t heard from in years. Hasn’t seen in longer. 

Ellison Church, her brother who almost died and hasn’t woken up since. 

Carolina balances the files over her knee but she never gets around to opening them. Instead, she puts her face in her hands and, in the muted light of her brother’s hospital room, she unleashes a flood of emotions she wasn’t even aware had been there all along. 

Stuck in that chair, in that room, Carolina’s more boxed in than she’s ever felt inside of her office or the military. 

* * *

She isn’t expecting to be shaken awake. And she’s _really_ not expecting it to be North’s hand she finds on her shoulder.

“Sorry,” he whispers softly. “Worried  about your neck.”

Carolina blinks in confusion a few times, beginning to sit up only to feel the kink in her neck make itself known something awful. She automatically reaches up and feels along the lines of her skin tentatively. “Ow,” she mouths. 

North settles back in a chair that hadn’t been there before, beside her own next to Ellison’s bed. He folds his arms across his chest, apparently not caring to wrinkle the paisley shirt that is unbuttoned far more than how Carolina _knows_ he wears them to school. 

He looks so tired. 

“Long day?” she asks, looking back to her brother’s bed and seeing not even the slightest difference from before. 

“Yeah,” he answers. “You?”

Humming a bit, Carolina leans back into her seat, mocking proper posture openly. “Longer,” she answers.

North huffs a laugh, shaking his head slightly at her constant need for competition. 

There’s a certain comfort to the level of their silence. She can’t really think of the last time it was only her and North like this – not like yesterday where it may have only been the two of them in the room but they were far from alone, and the distance between them might have spanned entire oceans. 

She settles back, lost in the moment and thinks no, it’s much different today. 

“I’m sorry about you and your sister,” Carolina says like it’s word vomit.

In response, North blinks a few times before glancing her way. “What?”

“You and your sister,” Carolina clarifies, hoping her voice doesn’t edge on _annoyed_ as it tends to do. “I didn’t know you two were having trouble talking. You never told me.”

When she glances back to North she sees that his look to her is nothing short of incredulous.

“Are you complaining about _me_ not telling _you_ enough about my personal life?” he asks, almost sounding impressed. “Carolina, you know I _have_ a sister.”

“It wasn’t something that came up before now,” Carolina attempts to argue, the defense falling flat even to her own ears. She lets out a grunt and leans further into her chair. It’s complicated.”

North takes in her words, seemingly not passing judgment as he does so. He shifts his feet until his heels are all that’s touching the floor and he arches back, tipping his chair with him. His eyes are distant in thought. 

“If I’m being honest,” he starts, “South and I haven’t _really_ spoken in years. But now she doesn’t even want to answer a phone call. Just text. And it’s a bit of a gambit whether or not she’ll answer those outside of the regular _hi_ and _night_ and _still alive_ today.” His eyes narrow slightly, their pale blueness not hiding the icy storm behind them. “The last real conversation we had wasn’t _talking_ so much as it was _screaming._ She said she couldn’t imagine how I could do what I do. Said it’d be more humane to throw people to animals than to us.” His eyes finally slide their gaze toward Carolina. Their hardness is striking. “I told her that _that_ was why she wasn’t chosen from our limit to go on… on the last tour.”

He doesn’t have to elaborate. 

Carolina remembers better than anyone what they lost on that last mission, the one that cost their entire unit everything – supplies, health, soldiers, their sense of _closure._

And all of it twenty hours after the war had officially ended. After papers had signed, when word was still trying to get out to all of them. 

The most damning news of all was that they had fought and died for _nothing_ that day. 

Yet it _still_ couldn’t beat what Carolina knows in her heart to be the worst thing she ever heard. 

Taking a deep breath, Carolina took her turn. “We were not a happy family,” she explains in hushed tones. “We weren’t close – not that we were close and then drifted apart like you and South. We just… never were. Or maybe once it was possible to be. When I was a little girl and my brothers were just learning to walk. When my mom didn’t die on a tour. _Maybe._ But the older I get the harder I find it to believe that.”

North flattens his feet against the floor and sits upright. His full attention is on her, jaw squared and eyes still piercing. But there’s no hardness to his gaze, there’s interest and caution. 

Like he’s _aware_ of how important the information about to be imparted to him is. 

“My mom never came home and that left the three of us there with our… _my_ father,” Carolina continues. “He was a very broken man, North. I don’t think he ever bothered picking up the pieces after he lost my mother and that left me to deal with the twins.” Her eyes flicker to Ellison on the bed. “With Alphonse and Ellison.” She stops on her own words and processes them again. Tries to take whole new meaning – but it hurts. It _hurts_ to remember the tiny faces that depended on her, it _hurts_ to remember the resentment so freshly. 

“Where’s Alphonse now?” North asks, voice calm. Still, he hastily adds, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“He died,” Carolina answers anyway. She’s better at answering that part than she is about her living siblings. “While I was enlisted. He… My father was not a good parent to any of us. But he loved me.” She looks tiredly to North. “I don’t think he ever loved my brothers. And I left them with him. With him and the temporary replacement mother. Who the hell even knows where she is now.”

Carolina looks back to her brother’s hospital bed. Instinctively, she bites down on her lip, hard enough it begins to hurt, but the tears begin to come anyway. “God, that’s what I always do, isn’t it? Leave things when they get tough? Runaway from the problems the second I can. What the hell’s wrong with me? How did I let things get to this point. I thought if I’m always at the center of these problems – least common denominator – things can just get better without me. I can come back later. I’m such… I’m such a child–”

She doesn’t fight it when North takes hold of the arm of her chair and turns her toward him. He pulls her forward and wraps strong arms around her, squeezing so tight that Carolina’s head sinks against his chest. 

At first she doesn’t know what to do, but as he holds her, Carolina’s body melts against him and she sobs against his stupid pressed shirt. Her first thought is _I’m going to ruin the fabric_ , and that’s enough to make her choke out a laugh between sobs. 

“What?” he asks, worry heavy in his voice. “What is it?”

“I’m ruining your shirt,” she snorts against him. “Isn’t that awful? I just… the first chance my brain gets, it runs onto the next subject.”

North lets out a small laugh himself, his breath warm against her forehead. “That’s okay,” he assures her. “I’m pretty sure the mustard from lunch ruined this shirt before that.”

“You’re a mess,” Carolina mutters against him, forcing herself to sober up even as sniffs and sobs run their course through her. “ _We’re_ a mess. Everything about this whole damn situation is just a mess.” She looks up at North, vision still bleary. “I didn’t want you – either of you – to leave,” she finally answers his ages old question. “I didn’t want you and York to know – to  _judge_ me for leaving my family and all its chaos… for taking care of _myself_ when it was the only thing I could do. I don’t think either of you can understand that – that selfishness was probably the only thing keeping me alive.” 

He shakes his head. “You’re wrong,” he tells her simply. “If there’s one thing I _can_ understand right now, it’s making a selfish choice to keep yourself from drowning in all of the shit life throws at you.”

As she looks into his eyes, as she feels the warmth in his arms, Carolina believes him. She believes him even more than she believed either him or York on the day they picked her up from the station. 

Without thinking, without hesitating on it, she surges forward, grabbing North’s head and pressing their lips together. It’s a hard mesh, not gentle and led into but needy and hurtful and all the things that ground her in the moment. And North breathes against her, surging back and adjusting them both for the comfort Carolina’s not seeking but doesn’t resist one bit once having it. 

Behind the kiss is a lot of things, but the only thing Carolina can think clearly on is the apology between them. 

When it breaks, she doesn’t look into his eyes, just lays her head firmly into his shoulder. Carolina feels when North’s sharp chin sets against the back of her head and he leans back with her more into his chair than hers. 

Carolina feels almost ready to spend the rest of the night that way – leaning on North and appreciating his presence and support among the relative quiet of machines humming. 

Judging by how North relaxes against her, he is ready to stay there for her as long as she needs, too. 

What they don’t expect – _can’t_ expect – is when low noises, like a wheeze and the subtle escape of air from a tomb comes from the bed. 

Almost immediately, Carolina is on her feet and walking to the bedside. “Ellison?” she asks, tossing her ponytail back over her shoulder. “Ellison, are you awake?”

By the time she gets to his side, Carolina can see glassy green eyes, vacant and bloodshot, searching the room. 

She crumbles a bit, immediately grabbing her brother’s hand and giving a gentle press agains the mattress. “Ellison! It’s… It’s okay,” she says, watching when his eyes finally lock with hers. “It’s me. It’s… It’s Caroline. I’m here, okay? I’m here.”

There’s recognition there for  a moment as Ellison goes through the gambit of emotions. His mouth, not working quite right, lets out more noise that forms nothing. But his hand presses back against hers.

With her free hand, Carolina wipes at her eyes, laughter she’s not expecting bubbling out of her. 

“I’ll get a nurse,” North whispers to her as he stands by them for a moment. He lingers, long enough to brush hair over Carolina’s ear and lean in for a chaste kiss against her temple. 

Words fail Carolina, but in that moment she doesn’t need them. North goes to do as he said, and Carolina basks in the attention of the brother she hasn’t lost.


	8. Little Soldier Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter – pretty much like all York chapters at this point (love to pick on my favorites I suppose!) was a tough write. I hope I get everything across well, though!
> 
> Special thanks to the support of @analiarvb, @freshzombiewriter, @washingtonstub, @rorsy, Yin, and @secretlystephaniebrown from AO3 and tumblr!

York isn’t sure how he manages it, but he doesn’t sleep a wink the entire time he’s got North draped over him, snoring softly in exhaustion. Instead he just stares blearily at the ceiling instead. 

There’s lots of noise in his head, noise that doesn’t really originate anywhere or from anything. Echoes of battle, of laughter he misses, of parents and recruiters proud or happy to hear his decision to become a soldier. The field medics telling him the bad news. Then the field medics telling him the _worse_ news. 

He’s gotten used to the noise, arguably more than he should be getting used to it. So really, it’s the newer thoughts that are keeping him awake over the white noise. 

What did Theo mean exactly about his brother’s accident? How is York going to continue to contribute if he can’t keep a job? Why doesn’t he _get over it_ and get himself a license already? Who the hell is he even living with if they don’t know the first thing about each other?

The house they got together – the second chance they got together – is full of tension and anger that York isn’t confident dealing with. 

So when he hears the door creak open and he knows that Carolina is moving around the room, York thinks that _this_ is the opportunity they need.

All three of them in a room together, discussing the recent events, getting to the bottom of the discourse, mending some bridges, _kiss and makeup._

He just needs to get up, stop Carolina, and wake up North. 

After all, _York_ is the catalyst here. He knows that. 

But he can’t bring himself to move. He can’t bring himself to speak.

One whole night of wakefulness and anxiety, and _loneliness_ most of all, and York can’t seize the opportunity presented to him on a silver platter. 

Instead he just sinks further into the bed, further into thoughts and silent anger and guilt. 

Carolina finishes her sneaking around and walks out of the room, and never once does York so much as wave to her. 

Then when North’s alarm goes off and he begins his morning routine after untangling from York, York doesn’t even help remove his limbs from the other man. Nor does he try to pretend his eyes aren’t open and awake.

North gives him a confused look as he sits on the edge of the bed, reaching for the underwear and pants on the floor. “You alright?” he asks, voice steeped in suspicion. 

“Wonderful,” York sighs loftily, melting further into the mattress. “Going to sleep in a bit, though. Long day and stuff yesterday. Got me off my sleeping schedule.”

North eyes him a bit, regarding him with some sort of fragile concern, before ultimately nodding and walking over to to where his clothes are laid out for the day. “Got any plans for today?”

“Yup,” York replies, returning his gaze to the ceiling. 

“Any jobs or interviews lined up?” North pries. 

The truth is, York has plans with signing Theo out early from school. He saw how miserable the kid was the day before, and he knows as a kid _he_ would’ve given anything for a “cool uncle” type to sign him out for a day on the town. 

And it’s not like if York _didn’t_ do that, he’d be doing any better on the Great Job Hunt. 

“We’ll see,” he answers instead.

There’s a distinct note of aggravation in North’s sigh as he continues the rest of his morning. “Just do what you have to, I guess,” North says. 

He doesn’t drill York or demand explanation for his mental state – he’s no Carolina – but the distance in North’s actions don’t strike York with the sort of affection he expects from a man who he’s cuddled with the entire night before. 

There’s a cognitive dissonance to North that drives York up a wall.

“I’ll be at school with Theo today,” North explains. “I might stop by the hospital this afternoon, though, so keep your phone on you in case you want me to pick you up or something. Alright?”

“Sure,” York answers, still stuck to the mattress in a heap. 

North hesitates, hovering over the side of the bed like his height doesn’t make him looming something straight out of a horror movie. In a better mood, York might even rib him for it.

York feels North’s hand on the side of his face, gently running calloused fingers through his hair.

“I’ll see you later,” North _promises_ more than he says.

“Sure,” York replies.

While North lingers for a moment, he withdraws his hand. Then, slowly, he withdraws altogether, leaving York in bed.

York lays slothfully where he’s at. There’s a drain on his energy that logically _should_ probably be related to his lack of sleep, but physically feels like something altogether. 

He can hear the sounds throughout the house of cooking and getting ready and the soft tones of people speaking even if it’s hard to make out who the voices belong to or even what precisely their words are supposed to be. 

What’s less difficult to discern is the front door opening and closing just beneath Carolina’s room. _That_ he can figure out almost immediately. And even if there is a shadow of a doubt about it, he can hear North’s car starting up. 

For the first time since he’s settled in the bed, York feels ready to sit up. 

At first, that’s as far as he makes it, sitting with just the sheet partially over him, groggily staring holes into the wall across from him, running his hands numbly through his hair. 

It doesn’t feel like reality around him. It feels… 

 _Wrong_ , but that’s not really accurate. Not _really._ Because wrong implies that something – _anything_ – has felt _right_ in the last several years. And that’s about as untrue to York’s feelings as telling everyone he’s _fine._

Once his thoughts are all together, York looks to the alarm and sees it’s only eight thirty, and his exhaustion still doesn’t seem to be translating to actual sleep. 

His promise to Theo – picking him up from school and giving him the _cool uncle_ of most kids’ dreams – is still fresh on his mind, but he knows taking the kid too early is going to just earn the ire of North and probably mean more paperwork for Theo later. 

Which leaves the question of just how York is going to pass the time. 

He starts with taking off the sheets from Carolina’s bedding and heading downstairs, gathering everything he can to clean at once. 

It’s a start. It’s doing _something._ And it makes him feel just the tiniest bit human again. 

* * *

 

It’s half an hour to noon when York shows up at the elementary school. North’s not on the playground which means that there’s actually a solid chance he has no idea that York is planning on signing Theo out. 

Which can mean that this is either ending in a riot or in a bunch of angry phone calls. That at least inspires York enough to use some extra smiling charms on the secretaries that North is constantly talking about while he makes sure to sign in great, big letters his name on the checkout sheet. 

“I think it’s wonderful that you two are helping your roommate so much with her family,” the secretary says as she takes back the clipboard from York.

York hesitates for a moment. 

 _Roommates._ He wonders if that’s really how the other two explain the situation to their coworkers. 

It’s never really been a situation he’s had to deal with.

“Really, North’s been the champ in all of this,” York says fondly instead. “We’re lucky to have him.”

There’s a curious glean in the secretary’s eyes as she leans in a bit toward her computer and begins typing something up from the clipboard. 

For a moment, York begins to feel anxiety closing back in on him, that creeping tiredness he’s not addressed yet right on his back, but it all gets interrupted.

“York!” Theo’s voice calls from an office door behind the secretary’s desk.

Smiling brightly, York looks to him. “Hey! Ready to go? Got some plans.”

Theo skips a few steps on his way over to York but by the time he’s next to the veteran he’s returned to a _cool_ and _calm_ demeanor which makes him shrug slyly at the offer. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Alright, good,” York nods to himself before glancing back to the secretaries. “Thank you, ladies!” 

He ushers Theo out the door and is heading down the sidewalk when he notices Theo takes a sudden and unexpected left towards the parking lot. 

York stops in his tracks and looks in confusion at the kid. “Hey. Where you heading?” Theo turns and looks at York. “We’ve gotta stop by the grocery store first. This way.”

For a moment, Theo almost looks like he’s going to follow without comment, but he tilts his head instead. “Aren’t we _driving_ there?” he asks. 

“No?” York scratches at his head. 

“Oh my god,” Theo groans. “Caroline was telling the truth. You _don’t_ have a car.”

Feeling more than a little awkward, York rubs at his neck. “Well, your sister’s not much of one for joking so… yeah.”

Trudging forward, Theo passes a glance toward York. “You guys are all _so_ weird.”

Finally getting back on their path toward the grocery store, York laughs and pats Theo on the shoulders. “Yeah, well, just think of us as setting the bar of achievement  _really_ low for your generation. When you start paying taxes later on, you’ll thank us for making you feel so good by comparison.”

* * *

The walk to the grocery store isn’t something novel by any means – on foot it only takes about three minutes from the school. York should know, he walks it enough. But it takes them nearly three times as long with as many times as York is stopped by people from the town.

There’s always a story or a question about his wellbeing or an offer to have him do some more odd jobs. 

York stops each time appreciatively. About the only times his smirk is not forced is when he’s being clapped on the shoulder where his military patch sets proudly over chipped leather. They’re decent, fine people – old and ragged for the most part. Walking around the dying shopping district out of habit and boredom more than any sense of convenience that the mall twenty minutes away would provide.

This he likes. It feels better and more welcome than the angry scowls and heavy accusations his dress earned him after honorable discharge, in the months at his parents’ apartment in the city waiting for the sluggish pace of the military to release what was left of his soul from their trials and reviews. 

Before the military, York couldn’t _imagine_ a world where people stopped him on the streets to _chat_ as opposed to brushing by and continuing their days. 

Now it’s all he never realized he wanted. 

At first, Theo’s annoyance at being stopped is apparent. By the third time he’s almost ready to keep walking without York. By the _fifth,_ he looks at York with fascination. 

“Everyone knows you,” Theo marvels once they finally reach the grocery store parking lot and make their way to the entrance. “Everyone _likes_ you. It’s weird.”

“Wow, you really _must_ be a Church if you find kindness so off putting,” York snorts in return. He immediately rubs at his face and lets out a sigh. “Sorry, that’s uncalled for. I’ve got a harsh sense of humor. City boy at heart.”

Theo tilts his head and smiles a bit. “You _have_ met my sister, haven’t you?” he asks skeptically. “All we know is snark.”

"Point,” York says. 

He stops by the carts and grabs one, shoving it over towards Theo. The preteen watches it sail by him and hit a wall. 

“Oh, come on,” York says, grabbing his own cart. 

“You wanted _me_ to get it?” Theo asks, walking over to the crashed cart. “Sorry, I didn’t know what you were doing.”

“I’m strange and mysterious, so I guess that’s really my fault,” York jokes, leaning over the handlebar to his cart and raising a brow at Theo. “But, yes, I want you to push your cart. Where else are you going to put the items on your list?”

Theo steers the cart around and gives York an incredulous look. “You want me to do all the shopping, too?”

“Not all of it,” York replies, producing a crumpled up list from his pocket. He stands upright for a bit and rips the list in the middle, giving Theo the latter half. “See? We’ll get done twice as fast. And last one done has to pay. How’s that sound?”

Squinting at York, Theo shakes his head. “I don’t have money, though!” 

“Eh, we probably have about the same amount,” York replies nonchalantly. “But I guess you better get done pretty fast if you want me to have to worry about where to pull the nickels and dimes from.” He chuckles mostly to himself as he begins to cross the entrance’s threshold. “Better get going!”

With a look of complete concentration that looks _remarkably_ like his sister, Theo reads over his part of the list before ultimately looking over to York and racing to him. “Wait! York! I don’t think you want me to have this side. Switch me!”

York hesitates momentarily. He knows for a _fact_ that he gave Theo the shorter half of the list. “No take backs, Kid.”

There’s a distinct blush dusting across Theo’s cheeks as he holds up the list to York. “I don’t want to get condoms that big. People will look at me weird.” He then tilts his head in thought while York feels his face heat up. “Actually they’ll look at me weird no matter what size. So _you_ do it.”

For a moment, York just stares at the list in Theo’s hand a bit disbelieving. But heat slowly spreads across his cheeks and into his ears before a slight feeling of panic takes over. 

_Why is he so damn bad at this!? How can one be so bad at kids?_

York grabs the other end of the list and groans before stuffing them both in his pockets. “You know what?” he asks. “Game’s over. I think we should just walk around the store together and chat instead.”

Theo offers a sympathetic nod before pushing his cart back to the rest on the rack. “Okay.”

“And your sister doesn’t learn about this. Like, _ever,”_ York continues, pushing his own cart forward once Theo is by his side. 

“Would she care?” Theo asks. 

“Probably,” York shrugs. “I don’t really know. I _think_ the general rule with children is that we’re not supposed to be flaunting, like, condoms and sex and _stuff_ around them until they’re like. Thirty, right? That’s when it’s okay?”

“I’m almost twelve,” Theo reminds York, his face flushed despite his bravado. “I know what some of that stuff is.”

“What, really?” York marvels, though he can’t even _think_ to recall his own life five years ago, let alone almost _two decades_ before. Maybe he was as worldly as Theo? 

They stop in the first aisle and York looks through the cereals. “Any of these you like?”

Theo nods, eyes distant with thought. 

For a moment, they stand there, waiting on the other, until it occurs to Theo that York’s comment doubled as an invitation to grab what he wants. He does so almost shiftily, grabbing Frosted Flakes, holding it close, and then hesitantly slipping it into the cart. 

Once Theo settles back by York’s side, still distant a distant look to him, York gets them moving forward again. 

“Alright, you’ve got something on your mind,” York says calmly. Internally he wants to kick himself – of _course_ the kid has something on his mind with everything that’s happened. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he adds hastily.

Those bright green eyes turn on York almost immediately. “I think it’s going to be rude,” Theo cautions. 

That earns a laugh from York. “Yeah, well, maybe it’s just the New Yorker in me, but I find most questions in life usually _are_ rude. So go for it.”

At first, it doesn’t seem like Theo is going to take him up on the offer, but he then turns his full attention on York after checking that the aisle is empty. “Are you gay?”

York blinks a few times at the question. He’s been expecting lots of questions about Theo’s fate at their humble abode, about his brother in the hospital, even just questions trying to understand Theo’s allusive sister. 

 _This_ is something a touch different.

“Ah,” York forces a laugh. 

“It’s just… you and North were in the same bed last night,” Theo points out.

“You’re pretty observant,” York jokes. He hums a bit, tapping his fingers against the handlebar of his cart. “Is… this going to be a problem?”

“No,” Theo says quickly. “It’s… cool.” 

But Theo’s face is the furthest thing from _okay_. York’s heart sinks slightly at the curl of the kid’s nose and frown. 

“But you were using Caroline’s bed,” Theo clarifies. 

York feels slightly uplifted. “Oh! Ha, okay, had me worried there for a moment,” he exhales. “But, yeah, I can see how that’d look… bad. Or confusing. Or whatever. But don’t worry, your sister totally knew we’d get in her bed with her. I mean, she has the biggest bed.”

His words are more than a little rambly and nonsensical, he knows that just looking at Theo’s reaction. 

“We’re… Okay, I’m not _gay_ as in I _only_ like guys,” York attempts to fully answer. “I do like guys. I like _North_ a lot. But I like girls, too. I like your sister a lot. You don’t really have to… _choose.”_

For a moment, it seems like his words are falling on Theo’s ears as utter jibberish. But the kid slowly nods through his obviously confused expression. “Oh, okay,” he answers instead. “I guess. I mean. I get it. Ellison’s talked about bisexual before. But…” His expression grows a touch more judgmental. “You like my sister _and_ North?”

“Well, yeah,” York replies. His words then come rushing back to him and he realizes that perhaps _polyamorous_ might be a bit more difficult to explain than _bisexual_ to a kid who apparently already knows what condoms are. “We’re… together. All three of us. At the same time.”

Theo’s head cocks to the side. His face is difficult to read and York feels panic clawing at the inside of his chest again. 

Carolina or North would have been _much_ better for explaining this to Theo. York wants to kick himself as hard as possible – he’s _certain_ he’s messed this up somehow. He doesn’t even know _how,_ just that he definitely _has._

But Theo continues to surprise him.

“Are you guys happy?” Theo asks curiously.

York blinks a few times, leaning heavier on his cart. “Are we happy?” he parrots.

“Yeah,” Theo presses, tugging at his bookbag’s straps. 

And _that’s_ a loaded question. York isn’t even sure when he stopped asking himself that, he just knows it’s been long enough that it slightly tilts him off his axis to hear it. 

But it’s one that deserves an answer.

“I’m pretty much only happy when the three of us are together,” York answers with such brutal honesty that it adds to the weight of his chest. “Carolina, North… they make me happy. Both of them.” Then, voice growing stronger, York looks directly at Theo. “I love them.”

The twelve year old nods slightly. “But is it weird?” 

“Maybe for other people,” York jokes before shrugging. “I mean, it’s not _common.”_

“It’s okay,” Theo says. “My dad and my mom… I don’t think they loved each other. And that’s normal. So maybe it’s better to be happy and not normal.” He glances down the aisle. “My brother’s not _normal,_ but he makes me happy. I’m way happier with him than I was with my mom.” He nods. “So I think I got it.”

“Yeah?” York asks.

“Yeah,” Theo replies, glancing back to York. “Shouldn’t we keep shopping?” 

“Definitely,” York replies, pushing the cart forward.

* * *

North’s texts that afternoon seemed to insinuate that he isn’t exactly happy with the two playing hooky, but considering he ends them by informing York that he’s going to stay with Carolina at the hospital for a while, he considers it a bit of a success story.

Theo is less thrilled that they carry their groceries the entire way home.

“Why don’t you have a car?” Theo asks as they at least reach their neighborhood. 

“I have a car. Your sister drives it,” York answers dodgily.

“Why don’t you drive?” Theo presses, voice teetering between _genuine interest_ and _absolute boredom_ in a way that York suspects only preteens are truly capable of portraying. 

York bobs his head a bit with the thoughts, trying to think of the most concise way he can word the answer. He just can’t tell if his answers are PG _now_ or PG of the _eighties._

Which is quite a difference. 

“I was in a really bad accident,” York answers. “I can’t drive now… I don’t know why.”

The answer is something that either of his partners would have paid good money for him to admit out loud just a week ago. Why it’s so easy to say to a wide-eyed youth is completely beyond York. 

“Oh, okay,” Theo replies, glancing down the road. 

They’re at least on the right street at that point. 

Theo looks back to York before he’s fully ready to move on with the conversation, but he doesn’t seem aware of the struggle just beneath York’s surface. “Hey, York? Do you think my brother’s going to have trouble with cars after he wakes up?”

York grimaces. “I hope not,” he answers truthfully. “It’s damn inconvenient.” He stops in his tracks and throws back his head with a groan. “Noooo. _Not_ eighties PG. C’mon.”

He’s surprised when he hears Theo laughing. 

“It’s okay,” Theo assures him. “I’m a Church. Everyone talks dirty around me.”

Squinting, York continues leading them home. “Hey, that’s all well and good for you, kid, but keep in mind that I have to answer to your sister and our very uptight-about-kids teacher of a boyfriend. Gotta be on my best behavior around them.”

Raising a brow at York, Theo takes the lead once they’re able to see their house. “Why?”

“Don’t want to disappoint them,” York replies with a far too casual shrug. “It’s complicated and all in my head. Don’t worry about it. Once you’ve dealt with hormones for a few years you’ll get _really_ familiar with nonsense and junk in your head.”

Theo turns on his heels and nods. “Like Ellison?”

Confused, York just follows Theo up the driveway. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Ellison, my brother,” Theo answers.

“No, I know _who_ he is. I guess I’m just confused what you mean.”

“He’s got junk in his head, too,” Theo replies. “He takes medicine for it. You’d get along with him.”

York feels his chest clench up again. “I think I understand what you’re saying now, Theo,” he replies, getting ready to unlock the door. “Is that what you meant about your brother not being normal?”

They grow silent and York regrets pressing Theo too much for information. 

“I think you can live with junk in your head,” Theo finally says. “But I think it’s harder.”

“It is,” York agrees. “It really is.”

He opens the door and the subject is dropped in favor for putting away groceries and making a meal for two. 

York has questions for Carolina now, but until she and North are back he’s ready to move on to the next subject with Theo. 

And he’s almost happy about it. 


	9. An Unexpected Swing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter – pretty much like all York chapters at this point (love to pick on my favorites I suppose!) was a tough write. I hope I get everything across well, though!
> 
> Special thanks to the support of @icefrozenover, @washingtonstub, @analiarvb, Yin, @sugarfirervb, @freshzombiewriter, and @secretlystephaniebrown from AO3 and tumblr!

For the first time, things actually seem to be improving. 

As much as he despises the feel and smell and very _air_ of a hospital, North admits fully that sitting there with Carolina in the first waking moments for her brother are infectious with good will. And it’s a feeling that only grows stronger and more resolute as he goes for her to pick up York and Theo to bring them.

Standing by in the room as Theo excitedly rushes to his brother’s side and Carolina tries to only mildly reprimand him for rushing the young man too much when he’s still weak and in danger, North thinks there’s not much better that he could ask for. 

He and Carolina are on excellent terms again. She’s opened up to him. York seems to be largely relaxed and in good cheer at thanks to the scene before them. 

It’s everything North can want in the moment. It’s…

It’s a lot of emotion. It’s a lot of _things._

While everyone gathers closer to the bed, North slips to the far wall and observes them all cautiously. 

All of the sudden, his chest is tight and his stomach restless. 

The feelings… 

There’s a _lot_ of feelings and he’s not explicitly ready to deal with them all.

So North stands back and he watches the happiness build and build and _build_ before him. 

He’s happy for them. They all deserve it. 

North just needs to keep his distance a touch longer. 

* * *

When North opens his eyes in the morning there’s still something patently _wrong_ with him. He feels it in his bones even as he rights himself on the bed and takes in his surroundings. 

It rushes back to him that, by choice, he’s in York’s room rather than Carolina’s with York and Carolina. 

But _that’s_ not exactly what’s wrong either. 

North swallows down the feeling and gets into his clothes for the day, readies himself in the bathroom, checks the items in his briefcase. There’s a routine to it all, but that routine doesn’t quite feel real. 

Going through the motions hasn’t really helped him set feet on the ground. Really, nothing has until he’s downstairs and sees an increasingly familiar sight of Theo by the door, tying on his shoes. 

The disruption, the _other person_ before him, jars North enough that he feels the rub of fabric against his skin, can smell the coffee bubbling in the kitchen. 

And it’s enough to wake him up, make him greet the child, and walk a little taller toward the kitchen and his awaiting meal. 

He’s feeling rather good and human, chatting with Theo and comforting him on the drive to school, comforting _himself_ as well, that he’s nearly surprised when he opens the office door and is greeted by the principal than by the lovely women of the office. 

“Ah! Mister Dakota,” the man says cheerfully enough. He then turns his gaze gently toward Theo as the kid stays by North’s waist. “And this must be our newest pupil. Hello there. My name is Mister Doyle! I’m the principal around here.”

Theo chews on his lip slightly before rubbing at his shoulder. “I’m… Theo Church.” He frets for a moment then adds, “ _HelloToYouToo.”_

Doyle, who has a way with children that North can only _wish_ to emulate at some point in his career, laughs slightly. “Oh, dear. Please don’t be too frightened. Rather, try to think of me as your _prince-a-pal.”_

Almost immediately, Theo locks up and starts looking for a way out. 

North reaches over and lightly pats Theo’s shoulder to comfort him. “We came early so I can show Theo his homeroom before classes get started, Sir.”

“Yes, _of course,”_ Doyle nods. “Of course I _do_ hope that it will not be too time consuming. I was hoping to have a private _parley_ with you if it could be arranged this morning.”

 _That,_ at least, _is_ surprising and North teeters slightly on his feet. 

“With… _me,_ Sir?” he asks. 

He knows that there should be some alarm in his voice, but rather it comes out as a calm drawl. His heart continues its steady, complacent pace. 

“If you would be so kind,” Doyle says back.

Not having too much of a response in mind, North just nods his head and ushers Theo toward the hallways. 

Once they’re out of earshot, Theo turns toward North almost mischievously. “Did you get in trouble on my first day of school?” he asks a little sarcastically.

“Well, let’s hope not,” North replies calmly. 

* * *

After getting Theo squared away, North finds himself falling into the motions once more. 

Not purposefully. He isn’t avoiding digesting the situation at hand but it’s simpler this way. His heart rate is a slow thrum each time he checks his wrist. Calm as it has ever been since the moment a gun was set in his hands. 

By the time he’s in Doyle’s office and his mind is a mile or three away from this all, North is fully aware that he’s not exactly keeping his carefully guarded mask in check anymore. 

And he’s having a _very_ difficult time caring about it.

Doyle’s office is a practice in contradiction, with the neat rows of reference books and educational bylaw lined up on every shelf behind the desk, and said desk perfectly neat save for the wide collection of colorful toys and ornaments across it. 

They don’t feel planted or fake, at least not to North. They feel more real than the stickers carefully placed all over his own briefcase in a flaccid attempt to tell all children they should not be scared of the giant man. 

Maybe it’s wrong of him to do that. Maybe his students would do well by coming across him with a little fear. 

The kind that North certainly doesn’t hold for the administrator before him at the moment.

“You asked for me, Sir?” North asks as he raps his knuckles across the doorframe.

Mister Doyle looks up from his desk and somehow manages to seem absolutely elated without cause. Already it feels off putting to North. He can’t begin to fathom what North’s done to warrant such an expression from the man.

“Why, hello, Mister Dakota! Yes, please come in – shut the door on your way,” Doyle beckons with an emphatic waving of his hands. 

North quietly does as told and finds a seat across from Doyle’s desk. 

He looks somewhat lost at the principle, waiting for the ice to be broken but not feeling the desire to break it himself. 

Doyle stares a little nervously back, as if he’s just taken notice of North’s actual stature. But when it becomes obvious that neither are making a move, he clears his throat. “Well, I wanted to call yo into the office today to discuss your work this past week.”

Despite himself, North allows a natural frown to sit on his face for a moment. “Is there something I need to correct, Sir?” he asks.

“No, no,” Doyle says, shaking his hands and head at once. “Not at _all._ In fact, our staff is _most_ impressed with your work, your determination – you truly take to teaching with the sort of finesse that many tenured teachers would _love_ to have.”

Blinking a few times, North tries to let the words sink in but doesn’t get far. “Thank you, Sir,” he says instead. 

“In fact, I have become so accustomed and so _content_ to having you at this establishment, I was to implore you to apply for a position this coming fall,” Doyle continues rather excitedly. “We are looking at having some positions vacated with the retirements this year and while, of course, you will need to apply and go through the same process of hiring as anyone else, I wanted to make sure you knew that you are _truly_ desired and welcomed by this school.”

The words buzz through North’s skull as they tumble out of Doyle’s lips clumsily. He understands them, he knows they’re significant, but they mean…

They mean so little to him at the moment. 

And it must be clearer on his face than he would ever want it to be. Doyle fiddles with his desk. 

“Is that…” the principal begins, flustered.

“That is an honor to hear, Sir,” North assures him, getting to his feet, forcing a small smile, and offering his hand. “I have to get to class but I will consider what you said.”

It’s a practiced, flat line that doesn’t satisfy even Doyle as he accepts the handshake.

North can’t blame him. 

* * *

After Doyle’s meeting, the day drags itself along almost maliciously. 

Barely three periods into classes and North can feel the muscle of his cheeks pull against the miniscule smile he forces on for his students. And he begins to lose power in his voice as he lectures. 

Fourth period, everyone is rowdy enough before lunch to not take notice of how little North goes over the lesson plan before handing out the assignment their teacher has left for them. 

But North can feel the drain, and by the time he drops into the chair at the desk he feels like gravity itself is fighting him, and he’s losing. 

But the repetition continues – like the familiar beat of a drum that he knows too well. 

He can’t clear the fog, can’t escape the sinkhole that is his perception of time. He just keeps up with the motion of it all until he’s in the break room, grabbing his packed lunch from the refrigerator door when someone clears their throat right behind his head. 

North feels an uncomfortable twist in his chest and he allows instinct to take over – breaking him out of the monotony with fierce and raw power. 

The lunch drops to the floor between his feet, North pivots, the air filled with a scratchy static but his heart stays calm, collective, ready for the pull of the trigger and–

The fifth grade teacher he recognizes from earlier in the week sitting with others, all whispering just behind his back, puts a hand on her chest and steps back from North. She looks shocked but isn’t _nearly_ as shocked as North is to see her.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she laughs uncomfortably. 

For a moment, North just stares at her and catches his breath. 

“I… Sorry,” he replies, shutting the fridge door and dropping to his knee in order to gather up his minimalist lunch. “I’m a little on edge today. I’ll get out of your way–”

“Oh, Mister Dakota, no, I needed to talk to you,” she explains, tone growing more and more concerned. “Are… you alright?”

“Yes,” North says too quickly even from his perspective. 

The other teacher looks far from convinced. “I don’t want to upset you or anything,” she trails off. 

“Well, current evidence to the contrary,” North says as he gathers his food and gets to his feet again, “I am not easily upset.”

“You brought Theo Church to school, didn’t you?” she asks.

Then, like the flip of a switch, North feels his malaise disappear. He looks at the woman with a strong ping of dread wash over him, his heart and mind running a mile a minute. 

“Is he okay?” he asks. 

“I’m afraid he and the two other boys are with Principal Doyle right now,” she answers, a tight frown on her lips. “We were on the playground – and I don’t have the _whole_ story – but before any of us knew it, the boys were fighting.” She shakes her head. “I really wasn’t expecting it – he’s been such a sweet, quiet boy this morning.”

North narrows his eyes. “Expect what? Him getting hit?” he demands, a little harsher than he meant.

“Theo didn’t get hit, not at first,” she clarifies. “I don’t know the whole story, I don’t know what instigated it, but _he_ hit first, Mister Dakota. I saw it myself.”

Immediately, his chest seizes. _This_ is about the worst reputation Theo can establish for himself on the first day of school – with students _and_ teachers.

“I wanted to let you know, since you’re here and you’re listed as one of his guardians for now,” she continues. “I understand he has a very stressful environment right now.” 

Squaring his jaw, North nods and does his best to not show just how floored he is at the moment. “Yes. It is,” North assures her. “Thank you for letting me know.”

Still skeptical, she nods and walks out of the room, leaving North with a crushed lunch and no appetite.

* * *

He sits on the bench, supervising the playground with a distant and pained expression on his face. 

North knows he needs to put more effort into appearing complacent and strong for his students but at barely a quarter ‘till one he has utterly ran out of the energy to do so. 

Instead he’s left deep in thought. 

 _Heartbroken._ He’s absolutely _heartbroken_ over what he’s been told.

He. _Nolan “North” Dakota._ The sniper. The cold killer. The man who hasn’t been capable of giving his own sister anything more than a thousand yard stare in years.

Somehow he is absolutely _heartbroken_ for the little boy he barely knows. For the brother to his girlfriend who couldn’t be bothered to inform them of Theo’s existence just a few days beforehand. 

Distance is supposed to afford him a _removal_ of these sorts of feelings. It’s supposed to help him not lose the tight, powerful control that is the only thing keeping him together in the confusing, _endless_ time after the end of the war. 

And it’s failed. 

North _feels._

Because he barely knows this kid but the very idea that this preteen is having a bad first day in _middle school –_ the part of school that is guaranteed supposed to _suck –_ has completely torn apart his walls.

“I’m so fucked,” North groans as he rubs his face with his hands.

* * *

The last period drags even more than the last of his day, but North manages to make it to the bell ringing before walking out to the bus lane and taking a seat at the bench. 

He watches the first two buses load up before he notices, in his periphery, that a familiar eleven year old is standing nearby. And, after a moment, North looks completely his way.

Theo’s fingers are tangled up in his bookbag’s straps, pulling and tugging nervously. His eyes haven’t made their way to North’s face yet, and the shiner on his right eye offers a decent explanation as to why. 

Even if North didn’t know all about the fight, he can’t imagine that it would’ve taken him all that long to decipher for himself what happened. 

The kid doesn’t have much of a poker face. 

“Sorry,” Theo mumbles more than anything else, feet idly kicking the sidewalk. 

“For?” North asks, keeping his face as straight and unemotional as he can. A task which, until this moment, had not been all that difficult today. 

For a moment, Theo seems as though he isn’t expecting that reaction. He actually bothers to look completely North’s way and blink a few times before his eyes dart elsewhere. 

“I didn’t have a good first day,” he finally answers. 

North thinks over each and every word carefully before nodding and glancing off himself. He pats the spot on the bench beside him, beckoning Theo over for a seat. “I didn’t have a good day either,” he admits softly. “And I don’t just mean having to talk to your teacher about all this. I mean overall. Not one of my best.”

Theo hesitates before shuffling over and plopping down. 

They watch students load the buses, and North doesn’t miss the way some of the kids look Theo’s way. He’s fairly certain Theo doesn’t miss it either. 

“Sorry you had such a bad day,” Theo offers quietly. 

Leaning forward, North rests his elbows on his knees and takes a heavy breath. “I’m sorry you did, too.” 

“I go to new schools all the time,” Theo continues, barreling through his sentence as if North hadn’t said anything at all. “I go to new schools all the time. I _just_ went to a new school last year. I’m supposed to _have_ this.”

Finding particular interest in the pavement, North just nods along. 

After all, he, _too,_ thought he very much had things under control. That of their household, his acceptance and understanding of his damage was supposed to make him the best equipped at handling it. That he was _coping._

And now, looking back at even just the last few weeks, he’s not certain he’s had anyone fooled but himself. 

“They made fun of York,” Theo finally announces. 

Drawn from his own thoughts, North turns and looks curiously at Theo. “What?”

“You wanna know why I got in a fight, right?” Theo asks, pulling his feet onto the bench and pulling his knees tight to his chest. “They were making fun of York. I heard them do it.”

“How?” North asks.

“I was standing _right there,”_ Theo says in annoyance.

“Okay,” North chooses to redirect rather than to correct. “Can you tell me what they were saying about him that got you so upset you just had to start throwing punches like…” 

“Like a Church?” Theo asks.

“Well, I was going to say _like a punk,_ but I suppose you _are_ related to Carolina,” he says, looking at Theo with a soft but genuine smile. “Going to answer for me?”

“They called him a hobo and asked if I had to help him steal a grocery cart yesterday,” Theo answers, still fuming even hours later. 

Not able to help himself, North laughs. Even as an elementary school teacher he sometimes forgets how mundane schoolyard insults can be.

Theo looks at North, completely affronted. “Don’t you care? Aren’t you all supposed to be married or something?”

Caught by surprise, North chokes on his laughter and starts coughing into his fist. “What now?”

"York said the whole bunch of you are _together,_ like you and him and my sister,”Theo informs him out loud. It’s enough of a stirring point that North finds himself looking around for anyone to have overheard them. “Oh. Is it a secret?”

“No?” North says, less confident than he’s ever been in answering anything before. He settles his gaze back on Theo. “But it’s not something that you yell around town either, though.” 

“Oh, okay,” Theo says, somewhat undaunted. “But if it’s true, why aren’t you angrier? Don’t you want to defend him?”

North looks seriously at Theo and thinks, somewhat unexpectedly, of the soldier he punched during the firefight – when he didn’t know whether York was dead or alive. When he saw the face of a man so distant, so far removed from the war they were fighting that he could cheer in the face of losing other soldiers. In losing _York._

And for the first time since the court-martial, North thinks of the man with anything less than hate. 

“Sometimes,” he begins slowly, “it’s a matter of picking your battles, Theo. Because if you fight _every_ battle for other people, you’re going to miss the ones that hit closest to home.”

Theo stares at him, the words not fully sinking in, but he nods regardless. 

“Now,” North says lowly, “do you want to go visit your brother and sister at the hospital? I won’t even make you explain the black eye. I can come up with something along the way.”

He turns and grins at North. “But Ellison would _love_ to hear I won a fight!”

“Won?” North asks, tilting his head. “Your shiner disagrees.”

“That’s just ‘cuz you’ve not seen the other guys yet,” Theo jokes. 

And, once again, North finds a genuine smile crossing his face.


	10. Big Sister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy were midterms brutal on my end. I survived them, though, and I really just want to thank each and every one of you for your patience and understanding for the past month – and really the last few months – as being able to concentrate on school and work really did make a huge difference on how all that turned out. And it makes it just that much more rewarding to finally be able to deliver a chapter for you guys <3 I hope it’s worth the wait. I can’t thank you all enough. 
> 
> Special thanks to the support of @analiarvb, @washingtonstub, @freshzombiewriter, @rusted-nerd, @icefrozenover, Yin, locrianrose, @secretlystephaniebrown, and @notatroll7 from AO3 and

Carolina is not on the clock when she arrives an hour early for work. Part of her job is to monitor other employees in the lab – make sure they’re not working on the clock for overtime and she takes the task with unfounded enthusiasm. 

So she isn’t on the clock when she is at the hospital for anything other than to do her job. She makes certain of it.

But she comes an hour early all the same.

Ellison is going to be moved out of Intensive Care soon, probably today. It’s less to do with his necessary threshold of care at this stage and all to do with the general crowding one expects at a hospital with a certified trauma center. 

It should be taken as a good sign, and what’s more the times that Theo has been able to stop by, a real _light_ shines in Ellison’s eyes that just isn’t thee the other times Carolina visits. 

She likes to pretend it has something – anything – to do with Ellison’s physical recovery. That his injuries and temporary coma has drained him and when their younger brother isn’t around he can’t muster up the strength to act otherwise. 

It’s what Carolina keeps telling herself, but it’s not what she necessarily believes. 

Because she visits – or at least _hovers_ around – Ellison’s room at nearly every hour of the day and what she has seen each and every time is a man awake. _Defeated._

The kind of man who can’t look his sister in the eyes when she sits by his side, even if he doesn’t retract his hand from hers. 

They sit in solemn silence for a few moments that morning, Carolina looking at the tray of food left untouched. 

“Is… there a different breakfast you’d rather have?” she asks gently. “I have some pull. I could get you the good stuff.”

Ellison, who seems to find the wall spectacularly interesting, just leans further back against his pillows and closes his eyes. “ _No,”_ he answers bitterly.

“Fine,” Carolina says back, unable to completely remove the bitterness from her own tone. “Your loss. I’ve made real nice with the cafeteria staff for a reason.”

“Then have fun with the cuisine,” he snarks.

With a sigh, Carolina releases her brother’s hand and, without a parting word, heads out the door. 

She puts herself on the clock five minutes early.

* * *

By the time shifts begin to change, Carolina has filed everything neatly away and begun to stare blankly toward the wall of her office. 

She’s ran countless numbers over and over again, even attempted to take a shift from one of the technicians so she could actually use her biology major to some effect rather than continue the work of a glorified accountant. She _almost_ got through a full ten minutes before the other employees shamed the technician enough for ‘taking advantage’ of Carolina’s supposedly fragile state and had her take back the duties. 

Though she continues to find distraction, Carolina continues to think about the snide words her brother had for her that afternoon. 

Deep down she’s been expecting as much from him for quite some time. Has been more than aware that there’s an element to it that’s deserved no matter what state brought them together once again. 

If she looks at their situation only on the surface, she can pretend that there is a numb acceptance to the boiling anger deep in her brother’s soul toward her. That it’s not going to bother her because she made her choice a long time ago.

That it’s _his_ problem and not _hers_ that he can’t see that it was the only way she could have seized control of her life. 

But it’s a hollow feeling. It’s full of excuses that fall flat on her own ears. 

So she hovers by the door to his room once more and watches as he fidgets and fits and rubs obsessively at his face. And Ellison – her brother who was a young teen just a blink beforehand – is laid up in bed before her. Alive. Miraculously. 

“Hey,” she finally says, her guts twisting into knots all the while.

Ellison looks up and sees her. There are rings under his eyes that aren’t from his injuries but from lack of sleep. He never slept much as a kid – neither of them did. It’s something their… _father_ protested. 

The more things change.

“You’re back?” Ellison asks, immediately suspicious. “Where’s Theo?”

“I told you before,” she answers calmly, coming into the room, “He’s in school. He’s been staying with us.”

“Us,” he repeats in a snort, fidgeting more. “Your _roommates?”_ he asks, the tone not lost on her.

“Watch it,” she warns temperamentally. “Don’t say something you’re going to regret.”

“Whatever,” he replies, rolling his head to one side against the over fluffed pillows. “It’s just ironic, is all. Daddy’s favorite–”

“ _Don’t_ you call me that,” she snaps, stepping further into the room. “How can you _possibly_ call me that after everything we all went through.”

“Because it’s true!” Ellison snaps. “Oh, poor Caroline! She gets _ignored._ She gets _disapproving looks._ Not like just down the hall there were the kids he actually _hated._ Not like there’s any kids he actually, _literally_ hurt!”

Carolina stares at her brother, her jaw squares and teeth gnash tightly together to keep her chin from belaying its quiver. 

“I left because I had to, Ellison,” she says lowly. “I left because I didn’t have a choice. And I was _sorry_ for it for too long. If I let myself be any more sorry about it, it was going to kill me.”

“It _did_ kill someone,” Ellison growls back. “You went to the funeral!”

“Alphonse was _sick,”_ Carolina reminds him. “And so are you, Ellison.” Her head tilts back and she exhales. “I don’t know what medication you’re on, but you told your doctors you weren’t on anything and that is _dangerous_ because there could have been an interaction with your antipsychotics–”

“I’m not _on_ antipsychotics,” Ellison replies irritably. “Alphonse was… until he _wasn’t.”_

She looks at her brother, mortified. “Ellison, you’re _bipolar_ –”

“I’m fine,” he says too quickly.

“The hell you are,” Carolina snarls. “You think I haven’t been spending the last few days talking to the police? Getting as much information about the investigation that I can? They’re saying there’s no reason for you to have wrecked the way you did. Christ! Ellison! You _left your brother home alone when you wrecked!_ There’s so many things that you could be in trouble for – Reckless Endangerment is the _tip_ of the iceberg–”

“What the fuck do you care!?” Ellison bites back. “I don’t even know who you are! Not really! When’s the last time you even _talked_ to me? Alphonse’s funeral! You don’t even know Theo at-fucking-all and you’re trying to use _that_ card on me? Me? The only person who gives enough of a fuck to try and raise the literal bastard!” 

As Ellison’s voice raises, his heart monitor skyrockets. It’s enough to make Carolina take pause even as her own boiling anger grows fiercer and stronger with each yell. 

"What do you want me to admit?” Carolina asks dryly. “That I’m a terrible person? That I planned for things to get worse when I ran away and joined the military? That everything’s my fault? Dad, Alphonse, your evil step-mom, Theo, _you?_ It’s all on me and I don’t deserve the _iota_ of happiness I’ve been gunning for in the last few years?” 

Ellison’s mouth audibly clicks closed and he stares at her angrily, waiting for the shoe to drop. 

“Okay,” Carolina says lowly instead. 

Obviously caught by surprise, Ellison’s head leans back. “What?”

“Okay,” Carolina repeats, finally walking forward and quietly taking the seat beside her brother. “You’re right. I don’t deserve to be looking to be happy when I know – when I _always_ knew – that I ran away from the responsibility of protecting my little brothers. When I spent _all_ that time taking care of you so I could just… stop doing that when you needed it most.” She looks into his skeptical gaze without flinching back from the judgment. “And I’m not happy, Ellison. Even as much as I’ve been trying – even as much as I’ve learned to… to _love_  lately – I’m not happy yet. And I could never get close because… because in the back of my mind there’s been my brothers. Just there. Acting as the big unknown.”

There’s an uncertain shift in Ellison’s position, as if he isn’t sure what to make of the confession. And Carolina can’t blame him.

“Before you say anything, it’s _not_ an excuse, I promise,” Carolina says firmly. “It’s… an explanation.”

“Fine,” Ellison says, voice scratchy. “I accept this _explanation._ Even if I think it’s bullshit. It’s… it’s the kinda bullshit that makes sense for a sixteen-year-old runaway who never grew up. So. Congrats on having that level of logic.”

“Hey,” Carolina snaps back, crossing her arms. “You took yourself off _necessary_ medication while having the custody of a minor, asshole. _Logic_ is not the basis of any argument you can have.”

They stare at each other in a stand off for a moment before Ellison cracks a smile and lets out a huff. “Yeah. Fine.”

Carolina rubs at her neck. “I just… Why would you do something so stupid, Ellison? Alphonse never got help and he… and he…” She closes her eyes, unable to fully form the words even after all that time, after it being buried for so long.

“Because I’m a twin without a twin,” Ellison says, voice croaking, painful. “I’m an identical twin who went to hell and back with his brother and… and he killed himself because he couldn’t go to anyone for help. Because he couldn’t go to _me_ for help.” Ellison drops his head and reaches up with his good hand, covering his face shakily. “How can you ask me why I’m messed up after _that,_ Cee? How can you… how could you leave after…” 

She stares at her brother’s unfocused eyes and can see things in them – age and pain and worry that don’t belong to someone so much younger. 

It strikes Carolina how little she knows about him. Did he go to college? Did he finish? How does he keep himself and Theo afloat? Is he still relying on the wrongful death suit? Did any of the money her father tried to bring her back with over the years end up going to him?

They really aren’t very sibling-like in their relationship. At least not in the past. 

“I’m here now,” she says, reaching forward and grabbing her brother’s shoulder. “Alright? For you and for Theo. I’m done running away. I have a family now – it’s a little broken, we don’t always know what we’re doing, but it’s the closest to a family I’ve ever known since… since it was just three of us and mom.” She squeezes. “And Theo _adores_ you by the way. You’re the foremost concern of his mind.”

Ellison gives a watery snort, not moving his hand from his face. “He doesn’t know what a role model should look like.”

“Well,” Carolina says, a soft smile pushing through. “We’re trying to correct that.”

“We,” he repeats again, like it’s something to be marveled. “So it’s not just a hallucination. You’ve got two boyfriends sneaking around when you think I’m unconscious.”

“I like to think of it as two boyfriends being lucky enough to have _me,_ actually,” Carolina corrects. 

Ellison drops his hand enough to give Carolina a careful look over. “Are they okay guys?”

“The best,” Carolina says without hesitation. She then takes a breath and shakes her head slightly. “We’re all soldiers deep down. That’s how we met. We… didn’t get out of the war easily. Everyone’s dealing with it. Somewhat.”

“Sounds like you need to get some help,” Ellison says hypocritically.

“Sounds like you better change your attitude if you want one of the _good_ rooms once you’re discharged,” she says in warning. “You’re going to need someone to help you around and keep an eye out for you for a _long_ time thanks to this car wreck, little brother. And Theo’s already claimed the best room for himself.”

A harden look crosses Ellison’s face. “You want to go from running away from home and not having almost anything to do with us for a decade to having opening your home to us?” he asks skeptically. 

"Maybe,” she replies. “I don’t know. I’m just… I’m trying to make this whole thing right. And that includes you, Ellison.” Her face crumbles slightly. “We lost Alphonse. And even if I haven’t made it apparent over the years, I _can’t_ lose you knowing that I could have helped. So that means helping you and Theo, then it’s done. If it means making some farce of a family out of my new family and my old, then it’s done. And if it means convincing your stubborn ass to take your medication again then _that’s_ done, too. Got it?”

Ellison stares at her for a few moments before shaking his head. “Fine, fine. Whatever. Not that I’m not still pissed at you but…” He pauses for a sigh. “There’s a part of me that _really_ misses my big sister.”

Carolina feels a swelling of _something_ a little happy and a little sad all at once in her chest. 

“Not that it means you have to spend every waking minute here to begin making it all up to me,” he continues, looking at her skeptically. “Do you even shower?”

“I beg your pardon,” she laughs, baffled. “I _work_ here. I’m not just hanging out in the lounge.”

“Whatever,” Ellison says, the good humor a little forced but appreciated all the same. “How about your get yourself out of here and take that _family_ we’ve got going on out for pizza or something? Let me rest well knowing that Theo’s having his favorite meal.”

“Pizza,” Carolina repeats dully.

“Yeah, he loves it,” Ellison shrugs. “Why, that a problem?”

“No, not at all,” she sighs, leaning forward and kissing her brother’s forehead. “Pizza it is. Again.”

* * *

Somehow, in ways that Carolina is almost certain she doesn’t want to learn the truth to, York manages to get to the pizzeria before all of them and have a table waiting. 

He also has sunburned ears and nose which Carolina isn’t even sure should be possible given the season so she chooses to eye him suspiciously from the booth seat beside him.

The looks do not go unnoticed.

“Trying to figure out why I’m smiling ear to ear?” he asks, leaning in with his chin on one of his hands. “Go on, ask me.”

“Not even a little bit,” she replies, raising a brow. “I have _so_ many other questions beyond that one. _That_ I just attributed to the whole I’m-the-one-who-suggested-pizza-for-once _thing.”_

York hums a bit, his eye rolling back in thought before returning to Carolina. “Okay, you got me. That’s _part_ of it.”

The baiting is a little too obvious and Carolina’s instinct, especially after a rather emotionally exhaustive day, is to ignore it entirely. But there _is_ something rather infectious about York’s secrecy. She’s _almost_ curious.

Fortunately, they both become distracted when North and Theo approach and the tables completely turn. 

“Whoa,” York says, straightening up in his seat. 

Carolina looks at the black eyes on her adolescent sibling then looks at North immediately. “What the hell happened?”

North and Theo trade looks before North shrugs. There’s some unspoken language between the two of them that Carolina cannot even begin to decipher when Theo slides in beside York. 

“I got in a fight,” Theo answers. 

“Did you win?” York asks almost too quickly.

Carolina’s head snaps toward York quickly and taps her fingers against the table in annoyance. “ _Really?”_ she asks.

“It’s a middle school fight,” North assures them all as he ushers Theo into the booth and comfortably takes a seat among them. He looks to Carolina in particular with a comforting confidence. “It’s nothing to get worried about yet. Because it’s not happening again,” he then glances toward Theo. “Right, Theo?”

“Nope,” Theo promises. Then to York, “I won.”

“That deserves a pizza,” York replies, smacking his hands together loud enough to make the rest of the table jerk back and quiet the other tables around them a bit. 

“York,” Carolina and North groan together. 

“You know what _else_ deserves a pizza?” York says without missing a beat, leaning in against the table. The other patrons of the pizzeria around them raise their own rumbles back up to normal, apparently choosing to ignore the interruption. “It’s also why I’m smiling.”

“Is that not a normal thing to do?” Theo asks a little timidly, being the only one to actually look at the menu. “You’ve been pretty smiley since I met you.”

“He’s been going on about this since before you two got here,” Carolina informs them. “Stop the dramatics, York.”

“Don’t ask him to do what he physically can’t,” North muses, glancing toward the menu in Theo’s hands. 

“Honestly, I don’t even know if you guys deserve my great news at this point,” York scoffs. 

“Oh my god, York, just go on with it already,” Carolina laughs. 

“I don’t know if I will–”

“ _York,”_ all three other members of the table say in one voice.

York smirks and throws a thumb toward his chest. “You know all that bother you’ve been giving me for not having a job or looking for a job lately?” he asks. “I finally know what I’m going to do.”

Genuinely surprised, Carolina turns and looks York over. She feels a small smile growing on her face almost despite herself. “What?”

Across the table, North mirrors her surprised joy. “No kidding, you have something lined up at last?” 

"Better than that,” York assures them.

At once, Carolina feels herself grow apprehensive. And by the look she catches from North, he’s likely feeling the same. 

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Carolina asks.

“I’ve decided to become my own boss,” York explains, crossing his arms.

Carolina feels the fleeting hopes she had for the news begin to leave almost immediately. “York–”

“Is this the Craigslist ads thing again?” North asks over her. “York, I’m _really_ not comfortable with those things. How’re you supposed to vet the offers of people you know nothing about? That _none_ of us really know anything about? We barely know this town yet.”

“York knows the town,” Theo pipes up.

Almost having forgotten that her brother is among them, Carolina’s head snaps in his direction and stares, a bit mystified. “Theo, that’s not really true. York lived in, well, _New York_ until the military and–”

“I _do_ know the town,” York corrects her. His eye shifts between Carolina and North. “I’ve walked every inch of this place, talked to every person on the streets. I’ve helped every mom and pop shop downtown one day or another, I’ve helped with groceries and handiwork and every other little thing I do in the day that you two have counted as _nothing_  lately. And, you know what, I enjoy it. I like being a handyman. I like being able to help, and I like going out and looking for different odd jobs every day. So, I say, why not actually build off that.”

“Insurance,” Carolina answers. 

“Job security,” North answers almost at the same time.

“Wounded veteran,” York says, pointing at Carolina, then pointing at North, “not anymore than I had at the furniture store or any other little job that you highlight in the morning paper. In fact, I’d have _more_ job security because I’m going to be handling _myself._ What can I do? _Fire_ myself?”

“It’d be funny if you could,” Theo offers.

“Hilarious, but I’m not planning on it,” York nods in agreement. 

“York, I just don’t know about this,” North sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

“Wouldn’t it be _easier_ to just apply for one of the jobs around town?” Carolina presses.

"No,” York says without hesitation.

“York–” North begins to argue.

“It’s not easier, not for me,” York continues. “The two of you keep telling me I need to take care of myself, right? That I need to see doctors, that I need to talk to _someone_ about whatever’s going on with my head. And you know what? You’re right. You’re right and I _hate_ it. I hate it so much it makes me even more sick. Because I lived. I lived and so many…. so many better people died out there that day.”

Almost immediately, Carolina feels herself winded. She sits back against the booth seat and looks at York simply lost in the statement. 

Those words hurt worse than any battle wound. 

North says nothing, but he reaches over and grabs York’s hand on the table. Carolina watches the gesture for a long moment before joining them. 

“So I need to do something about and I guess I’m going to start doing that,” York continues, voice not even the least bit weakened by his statement. “And I think part of that means knowing what I can’t do. And I _can’t_ do a nine-to-five everyday. I _can’t_ work off of a schedule someone else makes. So I might not make the most money, and I might have some ups and downs. But I think… I think if I’m getting help – if you guys are with me – I can _do_ this. I really think I can.” 

He looks back and forth between the two of them. “Is that… is that going to be okay?” he asks, a furrow of worry showing on his brow for the first time since the conversation started. 

Words are failing Carolina in ways she never really thought they could. But like always, fortunately, she’s not alone in this vital moment.

“York, if it’s what’s best for you, it’s what we want,” North assures him.

“Yeah?” York asks, looking to Carolina for confirmation.

Cracking a smile, Carolina cocks her head to the side. “Considering I’d only ever have a heart-to-heart in a pizzeria with the people at this table right now? I’d say I don’t have a choice but to go with anything and everything you ultimately decide.” She tilts her chin back and hums in thought. “Is that love?” 

“I’m thinking it sounds awfully similar,” North jokes. 

“That’s a relief,” York laughs, scratching at his chin with his free hand. “Considering I’ve been putting in the research and to _really_ get good at this self-business thing, I’m going to probably need to take an electrician’s course at the community college. And to go to those classes on days that North’s _not_ there, I should probably finally retake a driver’s license exam.”

Carolina blinks. “You’re going to drive?” 

“That’s great!” North gets out, sounding more and more impressed. “This… all of this is a good idea. And _especially_ if it’s good for you.”

“You know,” York leans back. “I really think it is.”

“Then it _does_ deserve a pizza,” Carolina jokes. “More than a schoolyard fight.”

“We can _finally_ eat?” Theo asks, or more groans. 

“We can,” Carolina answers. “And _then_ we can discuss what I’m going to do once York wants his car back.”

“Keep the car,” York says with a toss of his hand. “For all the amazing handiwork I’ll be doing? I need a _truck._ A _tool truck._ Yeah… and a dog that sits in the passenger seat and guards my shit supposedly but, really, is just a fluffy stress reliever who hangs his head out of the window.”

“Okay, now you’re stretching,” North rolls his eyes.

“You guys already have a yard,” Theo presses, bouncing with some excitement. 

“Yeah, I say we vote on it,” York argues.

“Then we’ll do it when we go to the hospital after pizza,” Carolina decides. When she notices she has Theo’s full attention, she offers him a gentle smile. “Ellison can be the tiebreaker.” She looks to the others again, this time looking for their approval. “It’s… a family decision, isn’t it?” 

North makes one of his unreadable, placid expressions, but York’s eyes flicker with something brimming on joy. 

“Yeah, it is,” York answers.

Carolina squeezes her partners’ hands and feels something she hasn’t really known until this moment. 

Family. Peace. At once together in her chest.


	11. Sleeping Dogs Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe how close we are to being finished!!! I’ve been so proud of this story and so grateful to each and every one of you who have been so supportive of it throughout this time. You guys are awesome <3 And I hope the next few chapters are full of the quality great readers like you all deserve.
> 
> Special thanks to the support of @analiarvb, @washingtonstub, @icefrozenover, @secretlystephaniebrown, Yin, staininspace, and @freshzombiewriter from AO3 and tumblr!

When push came to shove, when York is faced with the inevitable, there is really only one conclusion.

The world moves too slow for his plans.

After living with his life, his dreams, his _everything_ seemingly on pause for months – maybe even _years_ – he has a goal and a plan again. _But he can’t act on it yet._

Enrollment for classes at the community college don’t start for another month, and even then he’ll be signed up for the next semester, which isn’t until the _summer._ And that means it’ll be a long time before he can consider his odd-jobs business fully encompassing of everything he would like for it to.

Sure, he can do _nonspecific_ jobs until that point. Sure, he can keep doing as he has been doing. 

_Sure._

But already, York is growing restless with the restrictions. Whether they exist or don’t exist. 

The free time he has stretches from seconds to hours, and while there’s always that booklet North picked up for him at the court house that he could read through and take the permit exam for in the meantime, York doesn’t do that exactly either.

York becomes proficient at avoiding the most reasonable course of action over the week after sharing his plans with his partners. 

There isn’t a day he _wastes_ necessarily. 

He does what he has always done – walks around town, talks to people, speaks with some of the businesses he’s assisted in the past to get out the word that he’s beginning a small start up. 

There is even a deal at the printers office that offers to give him a discount on signs and flyers for some odd jobs around the business in return. 

Overall, York’s day is far from incomplete and far from wasted. 

But it all feels a little cheap when he notices his cracked and aged jacket has a hole in its pocket that will need a patch job. 

Stopping in his tracks, York thinks about the reality of patching the old leather jacket, glances at the cracks and the breaks. 

For the first time almost, he seems to realize just what his jacket looks like to others. What _he_ looks like to others.

And the hyper awareness makes him almost immediately nauseous. 

Having combed the entire town, he winds up at the only place he’s fully avoided thus far. 

It’s a bit of an old town cliche. A nearly rundown one floor building painted in chipping red and blue. There’s a repurposed school bus painted gunmetal green parked in the front and a half-mast flag flying overhead.

He stops just beside the gate of the VA Center and spends some time staring at that flag. 

It doesn’t bring tears to his eyes. It doesn’t sound like gunshots in his own ears. 

It’s just… there. Like York. 

Just observing the world in memory of the thousands who died in a war for no reason. To all the Brave who didn’t make it home. 

But it’s been almost a year. York, on his slow days, watches the news. He hears that around the country they’re starting to raise the flags again at veterans centers all around. 

Maybe this one will be raised again soon, too.

Continuing the rest of the way to the center, York isn’t surprised but _is_ a little disappointed to find that he’s the youngest there by at least two or three generations. He gets a lot of smiles and salutes from men in suspenders with badges pinned to plain white dress shirts. He’s greeted by a woman in a beret who seems intent on going back to her chess challenger. 

York takes it all in for a little while – awkward in ways he rarely is socially. 

Then he goes to the main desk and takes a few pamphlets and a card – a psychiatrist’s card. And by the looks of the small stand for them, he’s far from the only one to have taken one for himself. 

There’s a musty couch that York claims for himself and he slowly melts into it, makes himself at home. 

Among the fewer, the prouder. 

* * *

When his eye opens, York is met by Carolina’s less than impressed expression. 

It’s the sort of thing he’s getting more and more used to, whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing he’s yet to determine.

“Morning,” he greets. “How’d you find me?”

She gives him a raised brow before swatting his legs off the couch and taking the seat beside him on the couch. “You’re shockingly well known around town.”

“Happens,” York responds somewhat distantly as he scratches at an itch on his neck and looks around the veterans center. He doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep but he can see that the older crowd of the building before have mostly cleared out and the windows outside show a dulled and darkened light offset by passing headlights. 

“Hm,” is all Carolina musters in response, seeming to be taking in the building herself. “I never came in here before.”

“Me neither,” he admits. “But, of course, now it’s marked off my list and I’ve been in all the buildings in this town and _almost_ all the backyards with the number of fences I’ve been repairing. So I might have to expand my territory some now. Go into the wilderness a bit.”

Carolina snorts slightly, shaking her head. “You’re so weird.”

“The weirdest,” York agrees.

They fall silent together, looking at the flyers and posters and the ancient television propped in the corner. It doesn’t take long for York to lean toward Carolina and rest his ear against her sharp shoulder. He starts to wonder if womens suits will bring back giant shoulder pads in the future – they’re bound to be more comfortable.

“It’s awful,” Carolina cuts through the surface. “All the sacrifices of all the generations… and this is the only way it seems to have affected this little town at the heart of the country. People have no idea what we’ve seen. Or what we’ve fought after we’ve come back.” Her lips press together and form a thin line. “There’s no heart to this building for a reason.”

“I don’t know if there should be,” York says lowly in response. “I kinda think it’s a sentiment anyone interested in walking through those doors has in common.” 

Carolina lowers her head, eyes to the floor. “I don’t think I ever told you I’m sorry about what happened to Delta,” she says lowly. 

York remembers the car and the endless roads, the last minute radio announcement about the bomb dogs barking. All hell breaking loose and the ringing in his ears as he was drug away from shambles and carnage. 

“He wasn’t the only one to die,” York says quietly. “But he’s the one I miss.” His eye darts toward Carolina, assessing her reaction. “Guess that makes me a pretty shit person, huh?”

“Not at all,” Carolina replies softly. 

She flitters back and forth for a moment. There’s a touch of hesitation to her action, but it only makes it that much more powerful and shocking when she manages to reach over to him with both arms and pull him into a hug. 

“I’m… We are _all_ so lucky in this world that you lived that day,” she says, causing York’s eye to widen further. “And, damn it, I don’t know what I have to do or say in order for you to know that truth down to your bones, and I know I’ve been the number one reason things have gotten so complicated for the three of us lately, but I promise you and North I will fight and work and do everything I possibly can to make you realize you mean the goddamn world.”

Slowly, York slips his hands under her arms and pulls Carolina into his own hug. His eye screws closed and he digs his chin into the nook of her shoulder. 

“You know, I don’t think you’ve complicated things so much as finally made us bring everything to the surface lately,” York informs her. “So don’t worry you’re pretty red head about that. We couldn’t keep living with our demons if we didn’t start acknowledging them. I _definitely_ couldn’t have.”

Without saying anything, Carolina hugs him tighter. 

“Which reminds me,” York says, pulling away a bit in order to reach into the pocket of his jacket and producing the psychiatrist’s card he picked up before. “I didn’t just come here for a nap.”

Curiously, Carolina raises her brow but she ends the hug fully in order to reach for the card and read for herself. Her green eyes dart quickly over it a few times before she looks to York a bit surprised. 

“You’re really going?” she asks. “You’ll meet with someone?”

“Yeah,” York replies. “But I’m not grabbing it just for me.” He leans against his knees, fingers lacing together. “Lina, I had a conversation with your brother the other day and it’s really got me thinking… There’s no shame in getting help, right? Especially for this kind of stuff.”

“Of course,” Carolina responds without a moment’s hesitation.

“Then I think it’s obvious that _all three of us_ need to do it,” York announces. “None of us were alone on the battlefield, right? It’s the only reason we made it out of there… So what is it about coming home that makes everyone think that we need to start doing things alone.”

She stares into his eye quietly, thoughtfully. 

“Okay,” she agrees. 

“Okay,” he says back. 

She takes his hand in hers and pecks his cheek before pulling them both to their feet. “Let’s get home. North and Theo are in charge of dinner so who _knows_ what we’ll be forcing ourselves to eat.”

“Hopefully pizza,” York jokes, earning a teasing elbow to his ribs. “But while we’re on our way back, I _do_ think we need to start talking about this dog business again…”

“There is no dog business,” Carolina laughs, leading them out the door. “Stop saying that, especially in front of Theo.”

“You _think_ there’s no _dog business,”_ York sings a bit, nearing their car.

“York,” Carolina tries to warn, but it seems halfhearted. 

She probably knows deep down that they fell in love with one stubborn bastard at the end of the day. 

And that’s enough to make York smile.

* * *

York comes home to the smell of something distinctively _tomatoy_ and there’s clattering in the kitchen with the small chatter that was indistinguishable from it.

It feels so _real_ and so _natural_ but he’s still taken aback enough that he leans back against the doorframe a bit and looks at the lit house around him while Carolina kicks off her heels and shrugs off the jacket of her suit. 

By the time York remembers himself, Carolina’s giving him a look so he makes quick work of his boots – kicking them against the wall the shoe rack leaned against and shrugging his own jacket off one sleeve at a time. 

He realizes, a bit idly, that it’s the first time in a while that it’s not him that’s making dinner.

“You should really think about getting a table,” Theo is in the middle of saying as York and Carolina enter the kitchen. He turns and looks at them, smile small but genuine. “Hey! You found him!”

“He sticks out like a sore thumb if you know where to look,” Carolina says with a shrug. “That spaghetti?”

York pads across the tile and looks at the island where North is stirring sauce into a bowl of noodles. Immediately, York feels offended. “You can’t cook spaghetti for me. I’m half Italian. I’ll have a responsibility to complain about it.”

“You better not,” North says, looking up with brows high. “I didn’t make it.”

Even more surprised, York puts his hands on his hips and smirks at Theo. “You’re a chef now? There any talents you don’t have?”

“I can’t talk everyone into getting us a dog,” Theo laments. 

“No worries, buddy, we’ll wear them down on that one,” York assures him, ignoring how he’s almost immediately elbowed by Carolina in the ribs. “Hey, watch it, I’m still a little stiff.”

“Work hard today?” North asks, though as usual small talk strains him in unusual ways – his brow furrowing and unsure if he’s doing it right. 

It’s the little quirks like that that truly make York enamored with him. 

“Slept hard,” York admits. “I think I’m contorted a bit.”

“What’re you sleeping on? Benches?” North asks, growing almost more comfort in taking a more patronizing tone. “Pretty soon I’m going to run out of evidence for the secretaries at the school and they won’t believe you’re not a homeless guy wandering around collecting cans every day.”

“That wouldn’t make much money around here. I mean, where’s the closest recycling plant? Couple towns over? _Counties?_ It might not even be in this state,” York postulates. 

Apparently not allowing York to continue in his sarcasm, Carolina steps forward and answers for him. “He actually went and made friendly with the veteran’s center in town,” she explains.

North looks almost impressed, though York can’t imagine why. “Really? I’ve seen that place a few times. Didn’t think to stop by it, though.”

“Well, maybe we should all consider it,” Carolina says. “Now hurry up, I’m hungry and Theo’s hard work smells _way_ too good to continue resisting.”

Beaming, Theo rushes to get some plates. “Can we save some and take it to Ellison later? He complains about the hospital food a lot.”

“Ellison complains about _everything_ a lot,” Carolina responds. “But sure, I’ll see what we can manage.”

York stands back and just observes their strange little family, breathes it in. It’s still so hard to realize just how real it is. Even with North offering a plate right in front his face. 

“You with us?” North asks, brow furrowing slightly in concern. 

“Always,” York answers, taking the plate.

* * *

North doesn’t have to order him out onto the porch that time. York makes it out on his own with a few beers from the fridge. 

Theo and Carolina are gearing up to visit the hospital again, packing away leftovers and chatting like the siblings that York suspects that they’ve never been before. They haven’t asked yet if North and York are coming, and York suspects the question answers itself in some ways. 

It takes a little more than ten minutes, but North opens the door and looks out onto the porch where York is sitting. His eyes settle quickly on his partner and York greets him with a wave of an open beer. 

“We should really look into whether or not it’s legal to have an open container in public on this street,” North points out, walking over to him and taking one of the beers from the table beside York and taking a seat.

“I’m sure it isn’t. But, remember, I’m friendly with all our neighbors. We can get away with a few more offenses,” York says, looking toward his beer. “You’re welcome.”

North pops open the beer and takes a drink. “You had us worried for a few hours there. Would you mind _not_ disappearing like that again?”

“No promises,” York replies only half jokingly. When he sees that there’s a dissatisfied frown on North’s face. “I’m trying to get better. Like, I’m working on it. And things.” He looks at North more accusingly. “I’m trying to make it so _all_ of us are going to work on getting better.”

Finger tapping on the armrest of his chair, North presses his lips together. “Is that directed at me?”

“I think we all have a fair share of problems,” York says pointedly. “If I have to stop being a right mess, you have to make the effort, too.”

Sighing, North leans back into the chair. “Well… shit,” he sighs.

“I hear ya,” York laughs raising the can of beer toward North. 

North clinked his own can against York’s. “To the hard part, then,” North sighs.

“To the hard part,” York agrees, and they take a drink. 


	12. The Closer Curse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, we are so close. We are ALMOST DONE. I can hardly believe it. I genuinely, truly, can hardly believe how close this story is to over and just how much support you all have shown me throughout it. Thank you all so much <3 
> 
> Special thanks to the support of @secretlystephaniebrown, @notatroll7, @freshzombiewriter, @analiarvb, @icefrozenover, @washingtonstub, and Yin from AO3 and tumblr!

North’s eyes snap open with an unrelenting sense of panic. Not to his alarm clock. Not to the sunlight peering through the blinds of his room. 

It’s all to the sound of a small chatter, barely comprehensible from his bedroom, and the scraping and sizzling that follows it. 

He wakes up to the most horrifying realization of all – that someone in this house of theirs is attempting to cook unsupervised. Or worse yet, with each other while he’s been busy sawing logs upstairs.

Filling with concern, North finds a t-shirt in his nearest dresser drawer and immediately pulls it over his head as he begins padding across the carpet and toward the stairs. 

As he comes down the stairs, North tries to erase the alarm he feels toward the scenario – after all, it’s more than a little disconcerting that a grown man would feel complete terror at the prospect of other adults cooking his breakfast for him. But he’s lived with his boyfriend and girlfriend long enough that it’s not exactly an outlandish fear either. 

Once he reaches the hallway and can smell eggs and possibly bacon as well as better make out the voices of the rest of the household, North somewhat regrets waking up at all. Not just because of the unnecessary panic, but because he can’t imagine a worst conversation to come in on. 

“The voting is _not_ even because Theo is not contributing to the rent of this house,” Carolina says, though her tone belies her amusement. 

“It’s even because Theo gets as much say as any other Church in this house. It’s the new rule, I just made it,” York answers. “And I think the fact that Theo has _very thoughtfully_ been looking into the qualifications of an emotional support dog, we should reward his forward thinking.”

“Yeah,” Theo says, with the sort of bravado that North has yet to see come from him in any circumstances outside of their walls. 

“Who in this house needs emotional support?” Carolina asks dryly.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” York all but coughs into a mug of coffee. 

North stops at the door and looks back and forth across the kitchen. “I sleep in _one_ morning and we’re suddenly letting York near caffeine.”

“We’re trying out a reward system,” Carolina says without hesitation. “Speaking of which, I almost came to wake you up, but I figured that would be cruel of me since you haven’t slept in to my knowledge in… _never?”_

Suspicious of this kindness, North tilts his head at her and looks to York for a translation.

Lowering his cup, York gives a half smirk. “She is _ecstatic_ to be first one up because she is ecstatic any time she is _first_ at something.” He narrowly avoids Carolina’s elbow with a gentle ease and the both of them share easy, mirrored smirks at each other. 

Theo doesn’t move between them, fixing a fourth plate that seems to be for North without even asking if it needs to be done.

Not really thinking twice about doing so, North curls his fingers around the outside of the door frame and leans in toward the kitchen. Not quite entering, not _quite_ taking the step forward. 

“We’re still arguing about the _dog conundrum_ and awaiting a vote,” York elaborates. His eye focuses in on North in that way that makes it clear he can’t back down now. “What’s the final say? Theo’s on my side.”

“Wholeheartedly,” Theo nods. 

“And _I_ still say it’s ridiculous right now,” Carolina says in turn.

North’s nose twitches. “I think we know what I’m going to vote here,” North says with complete dedication to ignoring the groans of discontent that comes from York and Theo as a result. He refocuses on Carolina. “Plans for this Saturday?” he asks.

Carolina opens her mouth to answer, but Theo leaps in oblivious to his sister’s attempt to answer.

"Caroline and I are going to go see Ellison and bring him real food so he’ll stop complaining about the hospital food. It’s not really _real_ food he wants, it’s fast food. Which we’re not going to do because Caroline says that it’ll make his blood pressure higher, but we’ll bring him good stuff,” Theo answers in quick succession, hardly taking a breath between sentences let alone words. 

North can’t help but feel his mouth tug in the corners at the explosion of noise that is the young kid. Still, he eyes Carolina for confirmation.

Still flustered with being interrupted but working quickly to hide it, Carolina crosses her arms and awkwardly nods. “What he said.”

Shifting his eyes from the siblings to York, North quirks a brow. “And _you’re_ supposed to be getting your permit today.”

“Supposed to be,” York says, shifting to put his hands in his pants pockets and rock on the balls of his feet. “We’ll see if I pass the eye exam first.”

“You will,” North says. “I’ll take you to the court house.” Before York can argue he puts up his hand and stops him. “I insist.” 

“Fine,” York replies almost petulantly. 

Looking back to Carolina and Theo, North crosses his arms. “And I’d like to drop the two of you off at the hospital on the way, too.”

“You don’t have to do that, I’ll drive us,” Carolina says, ignoring the way the offer alone lights up Theo’s face.

“Again, I insist,” North presses. “It’ll give you time to answer emails on the way. Win-win.”

Carolina considers the new angle and nods mostly to herself. Which is more than enough for the confirmation North needs.

Stepping into the kitchen finally, North goes for his plate of breakfast, taking it graciously from Theo.

“You have any plans for Saturday?” Theo asks. 

“I have some things in mind,” North answers, a more genuine if not mysterious smile quirking on his lips.

* * *

For the first time that at least North can recall, his car is filled. Carolina in the passenger seat answering emails on her phone, York regaling nonsense stories to Theo in the back. 

It’s only once the Church siblings are dropped off at the hospital and York climbs over the center console to slip into the front seat Carolina has left unoccupied rather than get out and back in the car like an adult that things slip back into a sort of normal that North hasn’t had in what feels like ages. 

“ _Must_ we mess with the radio?” North asks as York does that very thing. 

“It’s my right as a passenger,” York responds before finding what he deems an appropriate station and laying back against his seat. “Think I’ll pass the vision test?”

“You’ve been living with one eye for over a year now, and I did the research to make sure you could,” North says without missing a beat. “Just inform them you have monocular vision.”

“Monocular? That’s the word for it?” York feigns ignorance, still leaning further back into his seat. “And why’d I have to tell them anyway? Can’t I just like… point at the sucker? It seems obvious at this point–”

“I know you’re nervous, but it really makes me uncomfortable when you joke around about it,” North admits, shutting down the punchline entirely.

He’s not even certain why he said it, why he would bother to interrupt at all. He usually just lets the upset remain where it belongs, buried deep in his chest, ever tightening. 

York looks his way and frowns. “But that means I have to find _another_ way of keeping up conversations with you. And, my dude, that is easier said than done in your case sometimes.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” North sighs. “I just don’t like remembering how we almost lost you.” He looks York’s way fully, letting his periphery stay concentrated on the road. “Without you… this whole life wouldn’t have been possible. Living after the war wouldn’t have been possible.”

"It’d have been _possible_ ,” York attempts to argue, though even his own voice delivers it flatly. Devoid of reality. 

“No,” North says a truthfully as he can, as painfully as he can. “Not for me.”

York’s not happy with the answer but he allows the silence to hang between them – what little silence there can be when the radio station is blasting. 

He produces a driver’s permit pamphlet from his jacket pocket and begins to mindlessly flip through it. It’s a useless attempt at seeming like he isn’t truly bothered by North’s rhetoric, but North appreciates it all the same. 

In the back of his mind, though, North knows he _shouldn’t_ appreciate it. Being left in his self-sustained solace isn’t getting him anywhere. It never has. 

The reason he’s there today, driving his ridiculous boyfriend around after dropping off their girlfriend is because of the closeness he’s finally allowed himself to have in his life. Because of the closeness that York and Carolina have all but drug out of him. 

“I’m better now,” North says. “I’m human again. Getting there.” He concentrates heavily on the road ahead, keeping his vision from blurring. “It takes time… after they train you to stop feeling. So that you can do the job I did. To be as good at it as I was.”

Not looking up from the pamphlet, York’s brow furrows. “We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to, North. I get it. I really do.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it either,” North admits readily. “But you need to know… Both of you deserve to know that I’m… going to keep trying. To be… _emotional_ and things. And not in the outbursty, knuckle breaking kind of way.”

As they pull into a parking spot, York actually snorts. “Well, that’s a positive,” he jokes before looking up. A confused look crosses his face and then he glances to North again. “I… Here?”

“Yeah,” North nods, putting the car in park and turning the key out of the ignition. “That a problem?”

York’s mouth works itself for words that never quite make it out. Then his brows raise and he leans back a bit, looking toward the building ahead of them with a bit of wonder. “No, not at all,” he says, stuffing the pamphlet into his jacket pocket again. 

Making quick work of his seatbelt, York readies to leave the car, hand on the handle, then he looks a little worriedly toward North. “You’re… Uh, you gotta do this with me, right? I mean… doing it by myself’s going to cause all kinda anxiety and I’ve not _quite_ seen that therapist yet so who knows how I’ll handle the stress and–”

“Yes, I’ll be there in just a minute, you’ll barely be through the paperwork part before I’m backing you up,” North reassures him, pulling his cellphone from the cup holder it had been resting in. “I just need to make a call first. It won’t take more than a few minutes.”

There’s a suspicious arch of York’s brow before he takes a heralding breath and exits the car on his own. 

North watches, a small smirk on his face, as York nearly clicks his heels with anxiety and excitement on his way into the tiny government ran building. 

Once York’s through the doors, North turns his eyes back down to his phone and instinctively calls the number he knows by heart. 

Resting the phone against his ear, North listens for long ring after long ring – more than the average person would ever bother with. But he knows what to expect, especially when the phone finally clicks and he hears a groaning, groggy voice on the other end of the phone.

“Holy shit, why are you up this early on a Saturday?” North hears his sister’s voice and smiles.

“You wouldn’t be interested in the story even if I told you,” North says honestly, tapping his free hand on the wheel and looking toward the door. 

“It’s really loud wherever you are,” she continues. “Can barely fucking hear you. And I’m tired. Gonna hang up now–”

"Hold on just a few minutes longer,” North urges over the sounds of his twin’s groans. He sighs, knowing he has to really grab her attention to make this matter. “ _Sammy.”_

There’s shuffling on the other end of the phone, the creaking of a mattress. “Sam. How many times do I have to tell you to call me _Sam,_ Nolan–”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts. “Not for calling you Sammy. Brothers don’t apologize for being annoying, but I’m sorry for… I’m sorry. You’re right. You’ve been right the whole time. I… I came back different. I came back really fucked up.”

They lapse into silence, and just below the ruckus outside, North can make out his sister’s breathing. 

For a moment it’s the only sign that she’s still there.

“Yeah, well, _that_ doesn’t take a genius,” she remarks flatly. 

“I’m getting help,” he continues. “And… And I’d like to go home and see everyone again. Soon. Not _too_ soon. But… eventually?”

He’s not even sure what he’s asking for anymore but South isn’t immediately dismissive. 

“Yeah, okay,” she says surprisingly instead. “Mom and dad’ll like that and all. You used to be the favorite and all – it’s too weird having their full attention. I liked it divided. It was fair that way.”

“Well, maybe we could split that attention even more now,” he says. “I… want my families to meet.”

There’s a long pause.

South curses. “Did you knock someone up? I thought you were gay as Christmas, you fucker–”

“No!” North snaps back, but he can’t help but have a laugh in his voice. “I mean, yes. Actually no. I’m… In a relationship. With two people. Only one of them is another man.”

There is a near traumatizing pause on the other end of the phone again. This time North can’t even make out his sister’s breaths. 

Then, to his rushing relief, she lets out a sigh. “Do you _have_ to make everything more difficult?” she asks sincerely. “No one’s going to care so long as you don’t go crazy eyes and stare at a wall for three hours again. Alright? If you live with another man or some kind of nudist colony, everyone here’ll be fine as long as you’re just yourself again.”

North squints some, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a smile of relief. “Would you want me to be in a nudist colony rather than a polygamous relationship?”

“I would never want you to subject other people to your bleachness, no,” she replies without hesitation. “Give us a date when you’re coming to visit, numbnuts, alright?”

“I will,” he promises. 

And he means it.

* * *

For a Saturday it already feels like a _long_ day by the time he takes York home and heads into the hospital for himself. 

North honestly hasn’t spent too much time in the hospital rooms since Ellison has woken up, there are a lot of feelings that clinical settings unpack for him, and he’s not really willing to face them for just anyone. 

There’s a different feeling in his chest as he approaches the room, though, and hears what sounds like a man’s voice carrying far louder than the more familiar tones of Carolina and Theo. 

Perhaps _that_ is the familial Church loudness he’s heard so much about. 

“Okay I’m about sick of losing these games,” he hears the same voice declare. “Someone hand me that tablet again. I need to read some magazines or something. Get away from this cheating.”

“I’m not cheating, I won,” Carolina replies, though by the time North is looking through the door she is handing her bed bound brother a tablet all the same. “I always win. I thought you would have been used to that by now.”

“I’m used to you cheating. God, you haven’t changed one bit since we were kids,” Ellison snorts, accepting the tablet with his good arm. “Tell her she’s a cheater, Theo.”

“You _can’t_ win Go Fish every time unless you’re cheating,” Theo argues wisely, peering at Carolina skeptically.

“You can when everyone else is a loser,” Carolina retorts. 

On Carolina’s face there is this soft, adoring smile that North has never really seen before. It’s not the admiration or affection that he’s watched her give himself or York in quiet distances. It’s something a little less familiar – both to him and to her. Like she doesn’t know how to further explore this swelling of pride she is getting from sitting between her two brothers. 

It’s a feeling that North can feel in his own bones – or _felt,_ at least, before finally making that phone call to his sister. 

Carolina’s eyes lift from her family and their game to the door and her smile changes to something far more familiar as she looks at North and waves him in. “You’ve been gone all day. Where’s York?”

“The house,” North replies. “He’s exuberant at the moment. Bouncing off walls and whatnot. So I figured I’d let him get dinner settled while I came to pick up you two.”

“Sounds like a plan, _and_ some good news,” Carolina says, looking to Theo and smirking. “We’ve got some, too.”

“Ellison’s going to be in out-patient in a week! If he doesn’t yell at more nurses and takes his medicine!” Theo announces excitedly.

“Right, like I said, nothing conclusive,” Ellison deadpans. He then turns familiar green eyes onto North and squints some. “You’re not the usual guy who hangs around my sister like a lost puppy.”

“No,” North admits. “I’m the other one.”

“Right, you just snog her while you think I’m unconscious or dying,” Ellison jokes.

“ _Ellison,”_ Carolina snaps in a warning tone.

“What? I’m just saying, he’s not been around much when I’m awake to evaluate him is all,” Ellison remarks, with a shrug even as North walks further into the hospital room and makes his way to the side of the bed. “Yikes, you’re a goddamn tree. No wonder Theo likes you – he can probably climb you like a jungle gym.”

North smiles blandly back. “You can ask me about the weather up here, too,” he says dryly. 

“Nah, I’ll change it up some. Come up with new material, just wait and see,” Ellison says. “Seriously, though, I feel like I don’t know you much.”

“I get that a lot,” North replies before offering out his hand. “But I’m trying to change that up some, too. I’m Nolan Dakota, everyone calls me North. Happy to be a part of your family, Ellison. I’ve been hearing great things about you lately.”

"You’ve probably not been talking _that_ much with my family then,” Ellison says in the sort of self-depreciating tone that puts North in mind of York. He accepts North’s hand though. “By the way, your guys’ stupid army names are a little ridiculous.”

“I think they’ll suit us until we grow out of them,” North acknowledges. “But you can call us by whatever you want once you move in with us.”

North doesn’t miss the way Carolina’s eyebrows raise in surprise that _he,_ of all people, brings up the idea.

“You guys aren’t going to mind a freeloader with bipolar disorder?” Ellison asks bluntly, an untrusting glint in his look.

“Ellison,” Carolina tries to snap but North just squeezes Ellison’s hand.

“Everyone deserves help and a family – whether by chance or by blood, right?” North asks. “I have to get these two home, so rest easy, Ellison.”

“Thanks,” Ellison says, almost softly, leaning back in his pillows. There’s a sort of peace over him that North hasn’t seen before. “I… yeah, no. Just thanks. Thanks covers it for now.”

Carolina is pleased but baffled as she grabs their coats and hands Theo’s his. They kiss and say their goodbyes to their brother before heading toward the door. Then she looks at North, almost confused. 

“What?” he asks with a small laugh.

“It’s not like you to reach out to… well, _anyone,”_ she says. 

“Maybe the times are changing, and who says a house can ever be too full,” North jokes as they walk out of the room. 

“A landlord,” she says without hesitation.

“About that, York said he was going to call ours and let them know about the changes,” North reports.

“That’s nice of him,” Carolina hums, suspicion beginning to grow in her voice. 

A knowing smirk stays on North’s face. “Something like that,” he chuckles in return, helping the situation not at all.

* * *

The barking gives it away before the door even opens.

“You have _got_ to be joking,” Carolina says, completely aghast as she turns and stares at North.

He doesn’t even have time to shrug before Theo bursts between them and throws the door open to meet York bear hugging the giant, fluffy mess he and North had picked out at the shelter – graying around the ears and nose with one eye and a snaggletooth.

It is the ugliest, slobberiest dog they could have picked earlier that morning. North’s almost certain they’ll regret it. 

“Hold on boy, heel!” York chuckles with absolutely no success before they’re both on the floor and the dog scrambles to tackle Theo and cover him with sniffs and affection.

Carolina is still staring at North. 

“I cast my vote,” he finally says with a shrug. “I think some responsibility will be good for the two of them anyway.”

Carolina shakes her head and looks with North as York and Theo roll on the floor with the giant, old, previously _unadoptable_ dog as it barks and shakes its tail so much it puts its hind legs off course as it circles around them. 

“York better get that business of his up and running if we want to keep that thing fed,” is all Carolina says before she walks forward to inspect their new mutt for herself. 

Content, North smiles as he walks into their house and shuts the door behind him. 

This isn’t the sort of thing he used to picture when he imagined a family life, but honestly he can’t think of a single thing he would want different at the moment. 

For the first time in years, North takes the steps to bring himself closer to others for _real._


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! The very end. I hope you all have enjoyed the ride and I cannot thank you enough for supporting this fic of mine from the start. I never expected the response I have received and I am eternally grateful to you all. Thank you one and all <3
> 
> Special thanks to the support of @analiarvb, @notatroll7, @secretlystephaniebrown, Yin, @freshzombiewriter, @washingtonstub, and @voxaris from AO3 and tumblr!

She’s struggling with the trunk and wondering why she’s too damn prideful to accept York’s offer of taking his truck instead of her car. Well, _his_ car, technically. Not that he’s ever driven it, even with his new license. 

Carolina stuffs the wheelchair into the trunk as best she can and, with the forcefulness of will and spite that only a Church could possess, shoves it in and finally pops the door down until it clicks. 

Almost breathless, she slides into her driver’s seat and shakes her head, trying to settle what hairs have fallen out of her ponytail. 

Ellison is staring at her with that unimpressed look he learned when he was seven. She resists giving him a noogie until he remembers to lose it. 

“I _told_ you that I didn’t need the wheelchair,” he reminds her.

“And I _told_ you that as long as you’re my brother and leaving my hospital, we’re going to take advantage of every little benefit that I get in my contract,” she says, pulling the seatbelt across her chest. “Also you have two legs in casts, brother of mine.”

“One leg and one foot. There’s a _difference,”_ Ellison all but pouts. Still, he stretches back and yawns a lion’s yawn before rolling his neck around. “God, I’m so glad to get out of that place.”

“Even if it’s with me?” she asks idly as she starts the car and readies for the drive home.

“Yeah, my happiness is in spite of a lot of stipulations I don’t find agreeable,” Ellison argues back, playing with the mirror. “Including medicine.”

“Lots of medicine to keep track of,” Carolina agrees. 

“An _unsavory_ amount of medication to keep track of. Who knows how many times I’ll forget to take certain ones,” Ellison hums.

“You’ll regret missing out on the pain meds,” she informs him dryly.

“Wasn’t talking about the pain meds,” he continues. Then, when she lets there be more than a moment’s pause, he leans toward her. “I was joking about going off the psychiatric ones again,” he clarifies.

“I know,” Carolina says flatly. “I just didn’t think it was funny.”

“Self-depreciation is all I have, _Sis,_ you have to let me own it at least own it,” Ellison yawns. He looks to her curiously. “So if I’m wheelchair bound, how’s that going to effect your new _humble abode,_ as it were?”

“Not much,” she says. “You’ll have to sleep on the couch in the living room until you can get up the stairs. But that means you’ve got full TV access. And the kitchen close by. But there’s only a half bath downstairs so you’ll need help upstairs for a shower whenever you feel up to it.”

Ellison hums. “Theo says you don’t have a table to eat at.”

“We don’t,” Carolina answers. She then quickly adds, “ _Yet.”_

Her brother raises a brow at her. “What kind of house doesn’t have a table for eating?”

“Ours,” Carolina replies. “We just haven’t found one yet. Give it time… I’m sure York will end up building one out of left over wood from the fence or something.”

“Real handyman,” Ellison snorts.

“He seems to think so now,” Carolina sighs. 

Ellison’s fingers tap nervously against the window. 

Carolina listens to it for a few minutes, making the turn into her neighborhood. When the tapping only grows louder, she spares her brother a sideways glance and decides to bite. 

“What?” she asks. “What’s wrong?”

“These, uh, _boyfriends_ of yours,” Ellison says slowly. “Have they mentioned… I mean have they got any plans for what comes _after_ I can get up stairs on my own?”

There’s a certain nervousness to Ellison’s question that Carolina doesn’t know for sure but _thinks_ is abnormal for him. At least the Ellison she once knew and the one over the fast few weeks she has come to know. 

Carolina, still swimming in memories of old family gatherings and dearest times buried under the sands of war, is unsure what to make of a Church being anything but snark.

So she goes with the easiest route: the truth. 

“There’s three bedrooms upstairs. Just one bath, but it’s a full and we’ve somehow managed to make it work for four so far. No reason it can’t work for five,” she explains smoothly. “Theo’s claimed one of the rooms, I imagine the third will be yours. If you like it.”

Ellison nods, but it’s slow. Acceptance is moving through him at the speed of molasses. “So it’s cool for me to… stay a bit.”

“Of course,” Carolina says. 

“With _everyone?_ ” he presses, eyes squinting despite the tug of the bandages on his cheek.

“Yes,” Carolina replies, irritation leaking through.

“Both of your boyfriends?”

She looks at him directly and pulls into the driveway. “That’s generally what _everyone_ means, Ellison.”

He holds up his hands. “Hey hey! Not judging–”

“Didn’t think you were judging until now that you mentioned it,” Carolina says defensively. 

“Okay a little judging, but this is all weird for me, I feel like we barely know each other anymore,” Ellison sighs. 

Sitting in the driveway, Carolina unbuckles and turns in her seat, facing her brother directly. “And that’s my fault,” she replies. “I should have returned for you. For Alphonse. Even for Theo.”

He looks back at her. “Yeah. You should have,” he says. “But I guess… communication is a two way street.”

"Yes, it is,” she agrees. She reaches forward and grabs his hand. “This house… these people, I know it’s not going to seem like much, but it’s a new start. For _all_ of us. And I don’t think you’ll find anything like it in the world. I hope it’s good for you. I hope you stay beyond when you no longer _need_ to.”

Ellison looks at her and slowly nods. “I hope so too.”

“Alright,” Carolina says, releasing his hand and opening her door. “Ready for a new beginning?”

“I’m ready for _something,”_ he agrees. “Like getting out of this car.”

It’s easier to get the wheelchair out of the trunk than it was putting it in. 

The door is already open, Theo running off the porch, the dog barking while York holds it by the collar, and North waiting passively at the door. 

It’s not a lot. But it’s _everything._ And Carolina’s never been happier to have a family. A _true_ family all of her own.


End file.
